Peter and the Captain's Daughter
by thoughtsofanonymous
Summary: Elizabeth Swan, headstrong daughter of Emma and Killian Jones, juggles her devotion to her family with her mischievous and controversial romance with Peter Pan. This is the drabble series of Elizabeth Swan and Peter Pan. Written by reader request, each chapter rating varies depending on the content of said chapter. [I own no rights to the characters of OUAT.]
1. The King and his Prince

**Hello readers! **

**I've decided to open a drabble series story for Peter and Elizabeth! Upon writing through Red Rebellion and Never Seas, I realized that for the sake of the stories' plots, I would not have the opportunity to write in certain scenarios that I am itching to portray these two in. Whether it be the inevitable confrontations between Hook and Peter (i.e. protective Daddy!Killian), relationship angst between Peter and Elizabeth, family fluffiness, Elizabeth's friendship with Adam, and where everyone else falls into their lives, I am willing to write just about anything that a reader would like to see. Every chapter is individually rated with the quoted request posted at the top - the prompt request can also be sent anonymously via my Tumblr account. **

**Much love to you all! **

* * *

**Requested Prompt: "LizPan kids one day in the distant future. I just want to see them as parents. :3" **

**Rating: K+**

* * *

The night air had grown cold and dry. Even under the constant hum of Peter's breath on the nape of her neck, Elizabeth battled her need to get up to retrieve yet another blanket over her lingering exhaustion. Sleep had not been her ally during her second pregnancy. Everything in her body didn't work right; she was always cold, uncharacteristically weak and never hungry.

Seeing as it was near the end of her final term, she was relieved to be rid of the sicknesses that had ravaged her throughout the long, nine months. No more coughing, sniffling, migraines, _excessive_ nausea (because it was a bullet she couldn't dodge in the mornings), or fever. Peter had gotten better about stepping back and giving her space to breathe; in her first two trimesters, he had stayed close by her side like some hyperactive watchdog.

Elizabeth let out a breathy groan when the baby kicked hard against her side. She rubbed her bulging belly in soothing circles, which had worked with her first son Billy, but not so much with this kid. Her soon-to-be born daughter was having _none_ of it; her tantrums would surely be legendary if she was able to give Lizzie this much hell before even being born.

She lied there in the quiet, uncomfortable darkness of the room, enduring kick after kick. Much to her relief, Peter did not awaken from his deep sleep as he usually did. She rolled a little ways upwards closer against his chest to gather more warmth from him. Peter reacted subconsciously, tightening his hold around her and burying his face deeper into the corner of her neck.

Suddenly, she heard their bedroom door give off a light _squeak_. Elizabeth listened to the light footsteps that scurried over to Peter's side of the bed. She could recognize the sound of her little son even in the dark: _Billy_.

Billy went straight over to his father's end stand before carefully rustling through the disarray of items.

Lizzie expected him to walk over to her side. Normally the routine would be him asking for a glass of water or to share the bed after having had a terrible nightmare. Instead, the boy left without sharing a single word with his attentive mother.

She frowned in confusion, finally using all the strength she could to lift her head up and observe the dark empty room. Their bedroom door was left just barely cracked open.

"Peter," Elizabeth murmured over her shoulder to Peter, who still had her enveloped in his arms. She rubbed his bare bicep soothingly in an effort to stir him. He hummed lazily in her ear, pulling her closer against his chest while bringing his hand down to rest over her swelled stomach. She sighed, "Peter, wake up."

The light urgency in her voice finally pulled him from his sleepy state. She could feel his arms clench around her in protective instinct as he tilted his head down to the base of her collarbone. "What is it? Are you alright?"

She turned in his arms to meet his groggy, yet nevertheless apprehensive frown. "We're fine, I just need you to go check on Billy."

"Why, what's the matter?"

"He just came in here but then left without a word."

His body relaxed around her, letting an easy sigh before brushing his lips over the exposed skin of her shoulder. Without another word, he obliged her request and started to unravel himself off her. The cool night air seeped through the thin sheets as he moved back the thick comforter, sending a trickle of chills up Lizzie's back in Peter's absence.

* * *

Billy's light scampers echoed down the hallway as the little boy ran back to his room. His plain, dark green cotton pajamas swayed in the chilly breeze that came from the open windows. He slipped through the open door and slammed it, energized by the hot tears that had begun to blur his vision. The adrenaline of his emotions fueled his racing heart. Gripping the stolen relic in his miniature fisted palm, the young boy immediately made his way to the bookcase where he had constructed a series of stepping columns out of chairs and his grandfather's leather-bound books. He kicked off his loose slippers so that his bare toes could curl over the ends of each step. Slowly but surely, he carefully climbed his way to the top until his fluffy golden hair brushed the ceiling of his bedroom.

Peter stepped into the bedroom without a word of warning, frozen in place by the sight of his five year-old son perched on the very edge of a high fall. His eyes narrowed, "Billy…"

"No!" The little boy cried out in a tearful rage, gripping his father's vial of pixie dust in his little palm. "I'm leaving and you can't stop me!"

Peter pushed back his initial wave of anxiety, easing his features into a mask of confusion to soothe his small child's emotional fit. "Might I ask where are you going?"

"Neverland."

"Is that right?" Peter smiled amusingly. "And how do you plan on getting there?"

"I'll fly there," Billy answered with determination, ripping the cork off of the small vial of enchanted dust. "I know how to. I've done it before in my dreams."

"To fly in reality is something entirely different than to fly in your dreams. It takes much more than a spark of imagination." Peter casually made his way across the room closer to the bookshelf while keeping his critical gaze fixed on his boy. "Besides, you don't know the way to Neverland from here. I'm the only one that does."

"The shadow can bring me," he mumbled uneasily. "It told me it would come."

"The _shadow?_" Peter repeated, his voice hushing into a venomous whisper. "I invite it to come and try. Only lost boys belong in Neverland, Billy, and you are most certainly anything but that."

"_Stop lying to me_!" The boy screamed furiously. "I _am_ a lost boy! You and Mum don't want me anymore! The shadow told me so. It said you're replacing me with a _girl_."

"That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth." Peter scowled. "That shadow would _burn_ before it ever lays a hand on you."

"No!" He could see Billy's lips purse together from the threat. The boy was doing everything he could to keep from crying in front of him; he always had to look strong in his father's eyes, no matter what.

What with his short, wavy golden locks and impressive height of a boy of his age, he was the spitting image of his father, which didn't help soothe Peter's nerves in the slightest. He shot a glance out the window towards the promise of the starry sky, then back to the vial in his hands. "The shadow told me you would give me away to a new family to make room for the baby. That's what happens when new babies come; parents get rid of their older children. The baby girl will get my room and have all my toys and have you and Mum and I'll have nothing!"

"No one could ever replace you!" Peter glared up at his son furiously. "You're my first child; my only boy. Gaining a sister wouldn't change that." The anger that Billy so clearly roused in his father offered him a strange comfort. He looked down to him with uncertainty, still gripping the vial of dust tight in his palm. "Whatever that shadow told you is a lie: a _dirty, rotten lie_ meant to steal you away from me. Your mother and I could never let go of you."

Billy swallowed and kept silent for a moment. Conflict flooded the little boy's eyes when all of a sudden the very notion of being taken from his home and his family felt all wrong. He blinked back a stray tear, "You're not sending me away?"

"Never." Peter growled, consumed with fury that the shadow would have the _audacity_ to even consider taking his own son away from him. A hot tear finally slipped out from the crevice of the little boy's eye as he gripped the edge of the bookshelf. His eyes winced shut; letting out the first choked sob he had been holding back.

Peter reached up the bookshelf to beckon him to crawl into his arms. "Come down, Billy." He looked at his father's hands, though aggressively shook his head in defiance. Peter glared persistently up at him, "Billy, the dust only works for me, Neverland's rightful King. I will not have you getting hurt."

Billy stood up with shaky legs, gripping the vial tightly in his small, sweaty palm. He finally edged towards the bookshelf, near where Peter held his arms out for him. "I still want to fly."

"You can't," Peter's retorted flatly.

Billy furrowed his brows in frustration. He dreamed of flying like how his father had done in the bedtime stories he had been told. Every cross of doubt that Peter conveyed to him only fueled his drive to pursue his dreams further.

All his life, he was compared to his father; his looks, his mischievous games, his relentless need to keep moving, his determination always to win. He was sick of being compared. He was sick of the stories. He wanted action. He wanted more than just the title of Pan's son; he wanted to live it.

"Billy…-" Before Peter could get out his last word, the boy jumped off the bookshelf. Peter lifted his arms to catch him, though only felt the tips of his fingers graze his arm as a green aura suspended the boy in midair.

At first, all he could do was gawk down at Peter; their wide hazel-green eyes shared the same incredulous thrill and disbelief. As the sensation set in, a boyish grin stretched over Billy's face in the place of his fear. He let out a short-lived giggle and reached down to grasp his father's outstretched hands.

"I'm flying," the boy laughed, green eyes alighted with adrenaline. "I'm really flying."

Peter beamed up to him and took his hand to lead him away from the bookshelf. Billy half-laughed, half-gasped each time his balance reared off in a certain direction and he wavered in midair. "I've got you," Peter murmured reassuringly, keeping him steady as Billy observed the bedroom below. "You know, you can't stay up there all night."

Billy shook his head insistently though nonetheless reached out for Peter's shoulders as his father pulled him down into his arms. "Told you I could do it," Billy murmured lightly against his shoulders.

"I should never have doubted you," Peter grinned. "Though I'd say for now it's best to just keep this little secret between us."

* * *

Elizabeth pressed her head against the plush pillow. She squinted her eyes shut to silently endure what felt like somersaults tumbling right and left inside of her womb. Following the gentle creak of their bedroom door, she heard a familiar albeit incoherent whine.

She looked over her shoulder to find Peter carrying a very tired looking Billy over to their bedside. Peter lowered Billy down over the sheets to let him crawl close to Lizzie's side. He nestled himself in his mother's arms, wrapping his body over her to snuggle her close.

"You okay?" She murmured lightly against the boy's muffled locks. He didn't answer her, but rather nuzzled his nose deeper against her forearm.

Peter lethargically climbed back into bed to join them. As Billy had snuggled against his mother's chest under her enclosed arms, Peter had to battle for a space to wrap his arm over her. It seemed that the baby was put at ease by the close proximity of her father and brother, thankfully, when the painful kicking finally subdued.

Just as Billy started to drift into sleep, he felt Peter's hand weave through his little fingers, placing the vial of pixie dust in their shared grasp. A smile perked up the little boy's face as his father with the silent promise that it wouldn't be the last flying lesson they shared.

The shadow did not return to Billy's dreams that night, or any other night afterwards. There were no more disturbances in the house, nor were there any intrusions through windows. Billy dreamed of himself flying through white, misted clouds towards an island doused in sunlight and colorful beams, surrounded by an ocean tropical blue, where seagulls avidly cawed over the crash of waves and mermaids cheered with welcome smiles at his arrival. He dreamed of _his_ Neverland. The Neverland he had just inherited where there were no shadows lurking in dark corners of the forest, waiting to taint children's hearts black. It was the Neverland his father was willing to give him.

Peter Pan dreamed of fire so that his son could dream of paradise.

Peter dreamed of himself, seventeen years old again, wearing tattered green clothing, a belt buckle, high-strung boots and two tied bands over his wrists. He stood in front of a wall of fire cast out of his own fingertips, invigorated by the crackling symphony of destruction and echoing screams of disintegrating shadows. Crossing his arms with a shadowed grin, Peter Pan watched with pleasure as every last inch of Dark Hollow burned to the ground.


	2. Lockdown

**Requested Prompt: "Can you write what it would look like if Lizzie and Peter were in Storybrooke?"**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: This prompt turned out to be an AU of Red Rebellion (which is already an AU but it's okay shh) **

**Imagine Elizabeth being born and raised in Storybrooke. Imagine Peter Pan and his boys staying in Neverland after Henry was rescued in Season 3A. It takes twenty years of Storybrooke time for the hour glass in Neverland to run out, and when it does, Peter returns to Storybrooke where Elizabeth is a teenager.**

**This was the only way I could envision it. Also I changed James's name to Neal (same character as in Red Rebellion and Never Seas, just different names). **

****I got carried away with this, sorry.****

* * *

Peter had suffered the final few years of immortality that Neverland could offer before the last grain of sand fell through the hour glass and his eternal kingdom turned to ash. Peter's allotted time had passed. The single particle that fell onto the glittering pile caused a deep crack to etch up the side of the glass and shatter the relic to pieces.

Peter was muted and denied authority while the island disintegrated; leaves flaked into ash, soil thinned into soot, water beds dried to dust. The shadowing overcast that once loomed over the island thinned to allow the merciless heat of a malevolent sun bake down onto the forests until the greenery caught fire and crisped to charcoal.

Peter was left with no other option than to resume his mortal life and surrender his island to die. Though this meant he lost much of his former strength, Peter had no intention of leaving his wicked ways behind in his withering kingdom of dust. It thus came as a surprise when he found life in Storybrooke agreeable to his tastes; the town was practically untarnished with wickedness and overdue for some turmoil. The quaint shore town and all of its residents offered him the perfect start to a new beginning of games.

As he was pleased to find the virginal lifestyle of Storybrooke ripe for his meddling, a greater shock came to the time span of his absence since last encountering Henry and the rest of his familial brigade. Nearly twenty years had passed and there were a few _intriguing_ new additions that had come into Henry's growing family.

One of whom being Miss Elizabeth Mary Swan.

* * *

The battered Jeep Wrangler screeched out onto the center of the intersection downtown. With his knuckles wrapped tight on the wheel, Felix steered the car forward towards the four-way intersection of congested traffic with a twisted smirk. Sirens blared out behind the jeep close in pursuit. The five other lost boys in the back stood side-by-side, all gripping the roof bar of the Jeep to balance Felix's abrupt turns as they howled and crowed in delight. They were dressed as boys of this world, sporting combinations of plain button shirts, second-hand polos, denims and khakis; however, their primal behavior distinguished them as lost boys.

Following the Jeep was Storybrooke's single police cruiser. Emma leaned forward over the wheel as she glared furiously ahead. With both feet stretched forward, his left palm pressing against the airbag shoot while his right gripped the roof handle, David squirmed in the cracked leather passenger seat beside her.

Pedestrians cowered and dodged from the sidewalks as Felix shamelessly detoured over the curb to avoid being held up by the cars ahead. Granny's 'Specials' Sign for the diner smashed into pieces. White and yellow envelopes flew out in a disarray of directions as the Jeep plowed a metal mailbox off its hinges. The commotion of fear and infliction of public destruction seemed to fuel the boys' excitement further as they screamed louder with laughter.

David barely felt the buzz in his jean pocket as his cell phone rang soft under the cry of sirens. He reached in, still with his eyes trained on the mayhem ahead, and blindly answered. "Yeah, this is David - _Emma watch the fire hydrant! _ \- Sorry, who is this? Killian?" He yelled into the microphone, "We've still got the lost boys in front of us. What, you've found him?"

* * *

"Aye," Killian answered lowly. On the far side of town, he and Robin had staked out across the street from Tink's clothes boutique where he suspected his target would be most inclined to go. The lost boys never put on such a show if it did not somehow go to benefit their leader, as Killian well knew. He had spent enough time in Neverland to recognize a diversion when he saw one. Sure enough after not a half hour after the lost boys began their diverting tirade on the other side of town, Killian and Robin found the lone motorcycle they had gone searching for parked in the alleyway hidden in the shadow set between the two buildings.

The two men kept their eyes focused on the front entrance of the boutique, expecting to find their intended target making his leave out of the glass pane door to the shop. Though of course, considering who they were dealing with, it was never that simple.

Killian would have missed him if it wasn't for Robin's intuition to keep his eyes trained to the upper levels of the building. They had been waiting patiently for a half hour, staring straight to the shop's doors before Robin noticed the boy making his leave from the window on the side of the building.

_Peter Pan._

The boy had kept his black motorcycle helmet on as a subtle device of disguise. The bottom hems of his dark-washed denim jeans were dusted in a fine coating of dust from the riding over the June pavement. His form-fitted forest green collar shirt stuck to his lean chest from the sweat that came from the sweltering heat. The helmet would have sufficed to disguise him, perhaps, if it weren't for the dark leather cuffs - the only remainder of his attire from his former realm - that were still tied around his wrists.

Killian kept David on the line as he observed the boy making his escape. The only sounds within the truck came from the muffled shouts and tire screeches of the car chase through the speaker of the pirate's mobile. "Killian, are you still there?" David's voice demanded out from the speaker. There were faint traces of Emma's cursing in the background of the white noise that followed.

Peter climbed down the rusted fire escape with ease. After hopping down from the last paint-chipped metal peg of the ladder, the boy returned to his motorcycle that was left standing by the dumpster. He nimbly swung his leg over the bike and restarted the engine. His back was kept turned from the men watching from afar. "He's not carrying anything. It appears that he's yet to find whatever it is that he is after," Killian noted softly into the speaker.

Robin's eyes snapped up from Killian's mobile back to the boy sitting stoically on the motorcycle in the alleyway. Peter had turned his motorcycle around to face them. The tinted glass visor of the boy's helmet was directed straight at them. "Turn it off," Robin whispered urgently to Killian. "He can't possibly hear us, can he?"

Killian could see Peter's head tilt ever so slightly to the side as he continued to stoically observe the two men's poor excuse of a hideout. He was very much aware of their presence - that much was certain when the motorcycle engine suddenly revved in threat. Killian's thumb slowly brushed over the red 'end call' option of his phone. "I think it would be wise to leave," he muttered calmly.

Robin did not react until the motorcycle beamer flashed on and the engine roared out with a harsh jerk of the gas. He scrambled for the truck keys and was able to turn the ignition just as Peter kicked off from the ground. "Go!" Killian shouted and reached over to unjam the parking brake. Robin slammed down on the gas, nearly rear-ending the parallel parked car in front of them as their tires screeched onto the road.

Killian avidly turned to see Peter steer onto the main road in close pursuit. Given the age and model of David's deteriorated pickup truck, it came as no surprise that Peter was quickly gaining on them. "Faster," Killian ordered. He could see a sharp glimmer flash against the sunlight - something short and silver gripped in Peter's hand - as the boy reared his bike closer to the back tire of the truck.

* * *

Elizabeth sat stoically at her confined metal school desk and rapped the blunt eraser of her pencil against the hard finished edge. Her stark blue eyes drifted out beyond the span of trees that rustled by the classroom window and followed the moving echoes of police sirens in another part of town. She curled her toes within her dark suede boots as a shiver of anxiety trembled down her back.

The classroom was silent with the exception of the soft chorus of scribbles that came from every desk other than Elizabeth's. Her single-sheet quiz remained untouched and nameless, as her mind refused to cooperate with any educational obligations with the ring of sirens echoing through the streets outside.

"Lizzie," Henry interjected at the front of the classroom. She lifted her chin from where it had been resting along her palm and looked up to her brother, who had taken a step away from where he was writing _Project Presentations Continue Next Class _on the whiteboard. Henry gave her an indifferent frown before nodding down to her untouched quiz.

She blinked down to futile single sheet of a grade. It was a small quiz, unassuming enough to not leave too large of a dent on her grade if she were to fail. She could at least leave a name, maybe a few beginner words to the first question so it wouldn't seem like such an insult to Henry's attempt at keeping the class preoccupied. It was obvious from the warmth of the paper and occasional misspelling that this quiz was hot off the copier. All of the teachers in Storybrooke High had to improvise to keep the students somehow distracted while they were on lockdown. The grade shouldn't count for anything, really, considering the fact that they should have been dismissed an hour and forty-five minutes ago.

The summer sun baked through the brick walls of the building to the extent that their poor ventilation system from the original 1980's Storybrooke curse did not suffice to keep the rooms cool. Sweat trickled down the roots of Elizabeth's fine golden hair as the back of her loose-fitting grey jersey shirt collected moisture. Students had given up on the formalities of keeping up their appearances as lockdown ran over the first hour.

They were now coming on their second hour of lockdown - the time was approaching 4:00pm - and tensions were flaring high with students and staff alike.

Suddenly a loud shriek of burning tires from the car chase broke through her contemplation. The entire class fell silent as all eyes were now fixed on the window. Even Henry, who at this point was trying _anything_ to get his students' minds off whatever chaos was occurring in Storybrooke, sucked in an apprehensive breath.

When Henry turned back towards his desk, Elizabeth noticed the pool of sweat seeping into his once finely-pressed white collar undershirt beneath his tan blazer jacket. He reached out to the large leather-bound book that rested on the top of his desk and smoothed the crinkled edges. Even from where she sat across the room, Elizabeth could see her brother's eyes narrow down to the title of the book, _Once Upon a Time_. "Alright guys, time's almost up. Finish the last question you're working on and pass them forward," he announced coolly before leaning back into his chair. Elizabeth swallowed and peered back down to her empty test. She could scribble down a few half-ass comments that might earn her a few partial credit points, though even as little as that did not seem worth the trouble. Echoes of an air horn interrupted her process of thought, _yet again_. She flashed an annoyed glare over to the two empty seats closest to the door belonging to Peter and Felix.

The horns were followed by an excruciating _shriek_ and _crash_ of yet another part of town being shred up by the car chase. Elizabeth shot her hand up. "Henry," she gritted through her teeth. He didn't turn, though rather acknowledged her with a quick flick of his wrist to speak. "Excuse me, _Mr. Mills_."

"What's up, Lizzie?" He murmured softly down to the stack of papers he was assigning grades.

"Can I go outside to make a phone call?"

"Sorry," Henry peered up from his desk and gave her an unenthused smile. "Students can't go out into the halls during lockdown: school's policy, not mine."

"Then can I make the call _in _the classroom?" She perked her head with a biting grin meant to challenge his all-too steady composure. "Everyone's done with their quizzes."

"Everyone except you."

Elizabeth flinched back, her sea blue eyes widening in shock to Henry's uncharacteristically blunt firmness towards her. He paused again when an explosive _boom_ sounded through the shut window. The entire class fell silent and exchanged glances between Elizabeth's steadfast glare and Henry's look of determination to uphold his authority. "Who do you need to call?"

"Mom." Her hands reached out and gripped the rounded edges of the desk. "We all deserve to know what's happening out there."

The class looked at Henry expectantly. Following another jab of uneasy silence, Henry leaned his back against the clean face of the white board. He shoved his sweating palms into the pant pockets of his trousers.

"I understand that you all might be feeling a little weary about being on lockdown. Storybrooke hasn't seen too much excitement in a while, I get it. But you should also know that if anything were to happen that was beyond the control of the police department, I'd be the first person the sheriff would call. Whatever is going on out there right now will be over soon. You can stop worrying."

Jack Whale, or as many of the students jokingly referred to as Jekyll, crossed his legs over his desk and raised his hand. "S'cuse me, sir, then that wouldn't be your phone that's been flashing with notifications for the past hour, would it?" Henry swallowed and felt down to his phone that was kept in his back pant pocket. The small green light flashed through the brown layer of his trousers visible for all the class to see. Sure enough as he pulled out the phone, which he had kept on silent, he found nine new text messages and an overwhelming count of missed calls.

"If it's information that you all want, I would think there's someone _else_ Elizabeth should be calling for answers other than the sheriff," Adam Gold muttered loud enough for his peers to overhear. "Then again, what do I know?" The class erupted in a louder murmur of chuckles and Elizabeth could feel her cheeks heat from a rush of anger. She whipped around in her chair and glared at the Dark One's son sitting directly behind her.

Even after shedding his designer blue blazer to adjust to the heat, Adam beheld the very essence of stature compared to his rowdy teenage peers. He was dressed in his neatly tucked white collar shirt and fine pressed pants; not exactly the norm style in a high school filled with students of the peasantry class. On that particular morning, he had disregarded the threat of humidity and let his dark shaggy hair fall down naturally along his narrow blue eyes. A hardcover of the collected works of Hans Christian Anderson, as well as a leather bound collection of the Brothers' Grimm short stories were stacked on his desk beside his agenda and filled with thorough notes for his take home assignments.

He perked his brows to Elizabeth with a biting smirk, provoking her to retort with something witty as per usual. She would have done if it weren't for the intercom that buzzed to life in the corner of the classroom. _Attention students,_ the voice of an older woman came through the wall speakers, _The temporary lockdown placed on the school has been lifted. We advise all students and staff to proceed home or to a safe place of residence until further notice by the town authorities_._ Loitering outside on school grounds is prohibited. Due to the significant damage done to nearby public property and condition of roads, operation of motor vehicles for an extended period of time is not advised._

Elizabeth whipped out her phone on instinct, as did Henry and every other student fidgeting in their seats.

_To: Mom Sent: 3:47pm Whats going on? _

_To: The Captain Sent: 3:48pm Is everything alright? Mom okay? _

_To: Peter Sent: 3:48pm You better have a damn good excuse for missing class… _

"Alright guys, you're free to go." Upon Henry's announcement, the entire class stood and shuffled out the door in a rush to beat the crowds of other students forming in the hallway. Henry leaned on his toes to shout over the rise of commotion. "Hey everyone! Be safe and if possible, try to stay indoors until it's confirmed that everything's settled down."

Elizabeth sighed while lethargically shoving her tattered notebooks into the main pocket of her shoulder bag. While the rest of her peers rushed to vacate school grounds, she remained stuck in the classroom until Henry had all his bearings to drive them both home.

Adam calmly sorted his books back into his brown leather bag before he stood with his blazer in hand. "Pass on my regards and condolences to your mother next time you see her. She's no doubt had a trying day."

"There are a lot of things I'm sure my mother would like to hear after all this is over. Condolences for road damage wouldn't be one of them." Elizabeth crossed her arms.

"No of course not," He chuckled as he sauntered across the room to leave. "I meant for her daughter's poor taste in criminals, clearly."

Elizabeth's scathing glare followed him in trained silence. As much as it would have pleased her to bite back with a scornful remark, the topic of her relationship with Peter Pan was still too sensitive for Henry to overhear. She slowly sank back into her seat. Her knuckles curled into a fist around the worn strap of her bag.

"Good decision," Henry muttered from his desk. His eyes were still on the stray papers he was rushing through to grade.

She flinched against the underside of her desk when her phone buzzed against her thigh. Elizabeth took a quick glance out the window to the crowds of students fleeing the grassy front lawn of the school before checking back to read the text sent from her mother.

_From: Mom Sent: 3:50pm Lost boys causing a wreck downtown, tell Henry to keep you guys in school_

_From: Mom Sent: 3:52pm Do you know where Pan is?_

_From: Mom Sent: 3:52pm Dad crashed gramps truck… he's okay... Peter's causing a lot of trouble today…_

The quick procession of texts had Elizabeth frozen in her seat. She glanced up at Henry, who was peering up from his quizzes to observe her reaction. It took her a second to realize her jaw had hung slack from the shock. She could have guessed that the boys were responsible for the commotion that had the town up in a frenzy (reckless driving was certainly not beyond the capability of Peter and Felix).

Henry eyed her coldly before her returned to the papers. Their relationship had been skating thin ice since her relationship with the former Neverland boy-king was first brought into light. She had always been a stunning girl; that much was obvious on the day that Henry first met her as a newborn in the hospital. He knew that he'd have her one day in his class, as well as Adam and Neal (his two technical uncles - though luckily Neal had his class the year beforehand in the grade above). Henry understood that he'd eventually have to deal with having her not as a sister but as a student in the public environment where he'd have to accept that she was a _girl_ with budding hormones and attraction for the opposite sex. Of course the consideration never sat well with Henry, but he had given it some thought.

Unfortunately he never imagined his little sister would be the target of intrigue and infatuation from one of his worst rivals, Peter Pan.

Elizabeth's phone buzzed again.

_From: Mom Sent: 3:57pm Any chance you can get Peter to call it off? I am out of ideas._

It was a rare occasion that Emma sought Elizabeth's assistance in anything that would be considered even _remotely_ dangerous. Her mother and father (especially her father) were protective of her, which in effect, led to her nature becoming all the more wild with an everlasting itch to violate the rules set before her. As it just so happened, Elizabeth did know how to tame the beast and twist Peter's game in on itself. She was cunning as she was manipulative; her self-awareness and perception of the desires of others' were perhaps her two greatest weapons.

_To: Mom Sent: 4:00pm Yeah, leave the keys to the station in the bushes outside the front_

She shot up from her desk without a word of parting to her brother, who watched her with suspicion as she ran out the door after Adam. Luckily he hadn't gotten far. He had spent some time at his locker a short ways down the bland, white-tiled hallway.

"Hey!" Elizabeth jogged over to where Adam had just reset the lock on his cheap metal locker. "Don't go yet. I need your help."

Adam smirked with disbelief, "You need _my_ help?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I know of a way to get Peter and his boys off the street, but in order for it to work, I need you to do something for me."

* * *

She sat cross-legged over the sheriff desk, waiting patiently for him to walk through the front doors. The heat had simmered into a complacent coolness as the June sunlight was replaced by a cover of darkness with not but a faint leak of moonlight.

Night had fallen over Storybrooke, and with that came peace and quiet.

Elizabeth's thumb brushed over the glowing screen of her phone as she disregarded the outpour of messages from her father, who had just woken in the hospital and continued to incessantly demand that she return home. Asides from the parental badgering, all other notifications came from her facebook application - more specially a photo she had posted earlier with Adam.

To the untrained eye, it was a harmless selfie in the school gymnasium on the bleachers. They had sprawled out all of their school books over the expanded bleachers to make it appear as if they were studying together. Adam had his arm around her waist with a wide grin as she leaned her head on his shoulder, sticking out her tongue playfully to the camera.

"S_tudy sesh on lockdown"_

Thirty seconds after she posted the photo on facebook, Peter Pan liked it. He had taken the bait, as Elizabeth guessed he would. The longer she made him dwell on the lone photo with no response to his endless rain of questioning text messages, the angrier she knew he would become.

So there she waited… nearly five hours later. The ticking hands on the clock that hung above the corkboard showed the time to be approaching nine o'clock; much later than she had hoped he'd come looking for her. The night was quiet outside with the exception to the symphonic humming of summer insect calls and cricket chirpings. Her ears were trained for the rumble of his motorcycle, though even from afar she couldn't make out a sound.

It was fortunate that Emma had installed a bell on the sheriff door, otherwise there would have been no way she would have noticed him walk in. All of the lights were kept off in the station. The limited visibility came only from the scattered streaks of white moonlight that shined in from the window. Elizabeth set her nervous glare on Peter as he made his way inside.

His silhouette was black in the shadow of the entrance, though even with her lack of sight, she could just barely make out the shape of his head as he cocked it to the side. "Hey," she stated while uncrossing her legs to let them dangle over the edge. "Missed you today."

Peter's shoulders shook with a soundless chuckle. She could make out the definitions of his facial expression as he neared the moonlight. His lips were pressed in a hard smile that offered a scant glimpse of his festering rage. "Did you?" His furious wide green eyes glimmered iridescent in the moonlight leaking in through the blinds. "I could hardly tell, what with all your _studious_ endeavors this afternoon."

"I had to get your attention somehow. You ignored all of my messages." She pursed her lips in an infuriated scowl. "I didn't hear you pull up on your bike. What happened?" Peter stepped into the meager fleck of moonlight, finally offering Elizabeth the rest of his battered and beaten appearance. Her cool composure broke when she first noticed the strip of Peter's dark denims that had all but shredded off. Down the side of his leg, there was a deep red shine that gleamed when he took his first step out of the shadows, exposing the gush of road burn that had yet to be treated.

"Peter, what the hell!"

He laughed, his delighted smile bearing the faintest glimmer of his teeth in the lowlight. Elizabeth gripped the edge of the desk and kept her eyes down on the horrific wound as he moved closer. He closed the distance between them until he had wedged himself between her knees hanging off the desk. Standing taller than where she sat, Peter nudged his nose along the roots of her hair and dropped his hands down over her waist. Elizabeth hooked her finger in the bloodied holes of his jeans and pulled him in closer so she could feel the warmth of his bloodied gash along his thigh. Her voice lowered, "What did you do?"

"It's just a scratch. The bike took the worst of it," he murmured. His lips brushed the cartilage of her ear and beckoned for her to lean upwards into his breath. She smoothed her finger over the wound to feel the extent of where it began and ended. "If you don't believe me, ask your father."

"Yeah, about that," she smiled inquisitively. "Explain to me how he was put in the hospital."

Peter smirked against her forehead. "He ought to have known better, really."

She leaned back and glowered up at him. "He was lucky to walk away from the accident with just a fractured wrist. If he and Robin weren't wearing seatbelts they could have been killed."

"Captain Hook, in a seatbelt?" He laughed, "I didn't realize the extent of grip that our Savior sheriff has on him."

"There's nothing funny about you almost killing my father. I'm not interested in what happened between you two in Neverland. Being with me means keeping my family out of your do-or-die stunts."

"Perhaps in the future he'll know better than to follow someone who should not be followed."

"Why'd you break into the fairy's apartment for in the first place? What were you looking for?"

"What did I _recover_, you mean?" Peter smirked, "When your family rescued Henry from Neverland all those years ago, they brought back a small part of the island, a vial of pixie dust, which they were able to make work." He curled one of his hands into the underside of his collar shirt to pull out a thin string. Hanging at the bottom was the green glowing vial. "This vial contains all the magic I need to be powerful again; to start playing some _real_ games with the people I despise most in this town."

Elizabeth reached up to grasp Peter's wrist that held the vial. His skin was cool to the touch and was thrumming with a strange drone of energy. She glared up at him, "What games?"

"All sorts of games, any games I like." He tipped his head down, forehead leaning on forehead, to observe Elizabeth's hand that smoothed over his wound. Her fingers began to draw gentle circles over the contour of his shredded skin while her other hand wrapped around his other upper thigh, keeping him close against her waist. She felt a soothing buzz of energy seep out of his fingers and through hers to reach his flayed skin. After a mere few seconds had passed, the wound had magically cleaned itself and his skin had pulled back together.

"Whatever you have planned, you're going to leave my family out of it," she interjected. "That includes Henry."

"You know I can't agree to that, not while you're related to nearly half the town. There'd be no oneworthwhile left for me to go after."

"I don't care," she glared sharply up at him. "I can tolerate Peter Pan; I'm not so sure about Jack the Ripper."

Peter huffed out a breath of annoyance. His fingers curled around her wrist. "You expect an awful lot from someone whose been deprived of _so much_."

Rather than dispute him with further argument, Elizabeth quickly switched tactics. She leaned in to press a kiss against the corner of his jaw. His smile fell solemn before he shrugged with indifference. "I do not make promises to protect _adults_. They deserve the worst of what I have in store."

"What if I asked nicely?" She nuzzled her nose lower just below his ear.

His infuriation simmered with a low chuckle, "Well look who's started to play dirty."

"Mmhmm," she hummed against his neck. Her legs tightened around his waist. "Promise to play nice."

Her eyes had already closed to welcome the feel of Peter's lips over her brow. She swayed into his warm breath that ghosted over the side of her temple. He smirked, "You're not going to win that easily."

His hands, which had been kept firm on her waist, dropped down beneath where her legs which rested over the desk. He hoisted her up in his arms with ease. She laughed just before her mouth collided with his - all lip and tongue clashing with the others in competitive lust. He walked them back from the desk and into the open holding cell. Elizabeth's legs tightened around him as he pressed her up against the rusted iron bars.

She leaned her head back into a gleam of moonlight. Her eyes shut complacently with another breathy chuckle as Peter started at the corner of her ear and worked down along the side of her neck. Just as she felt the gentle sway of his waist, she leaned back against the bars. "Alright, if you can't promise you'll keep them out of your games, then at least swear there will be no fatalities."

Peter flashed his teeth in a bitter smile. "And there's that wonderful sense of humor that I adore so much."

"You're in Storybrooke, not Neverland." Her fingers carded through the ends of his dark golden hair. "Killing is against the rules here."

"Against your rules perhaps, but not mine. And what's to happen if I do take a life?" He gawked with mock-fear. "Is the _fearsome_ Emma Swan going to lock me up in the station?

"There's more at stake than that," she frowned. "Murder is something I can't forgive."

The two remained silent in their stubborn resolve. Back in the time spent in Neverland, the notion that Peter Pan would make a compromise was unheard of. This sort of dealing was not easy for him. He had just discovered _passion_ for the first time with Elizabeth. Not only was she his greatest treasure, but also his greatest challenge as it was made clear in their long exchange of waiting until the other broke. It took another excruciating minute before Peter finally bent. His smile hardened into a firm scowl as he let out a furious huff. "Of course I have other ways of winning… If it _really_ bothers you all that much." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth in an excited smile. "But l will warn you; my other forms of punishment are no more merciful."

"Fine." Her legs slowly unhitched down from around Peter's waist and lowered back to the ground. He nudged his knee between her legs, keeping her on the tips of her toes as his mouth moved downwards to ravish her neck once more.

With all negotiations put at rest, she knew there was one last item on her agenda that she could not afford to be distracted from. All in one ardent maneuver, Elizabeth grabbed Peter and rolled him around to switch positions. She walked him back against the bars, one hand hooking her fingers under both of his cuffs to lift his hands up over his head while the other gently pulled on the back ends of his hair to demand eye contact. "That reminds me, you still need to be punished."

Peter raised his brow, "_Punished_? What, for cutting a tire?"

Elizabeth rolled her bottom lip into her mouth as her eyes narrowed in contemplative thought. "Actually, this is a bit more personal." She moved back in to demand his lips once more, only this time kissing him with a hungry drive that soon left his lips softened and his lungs devoid of air. Elizabeth rode her hips against him. She could feel his arousal growing and lusting for more friction beneath his layer of denim. His breathing was becoming erratic. His body trembled while his fingers curled over her one hand of restraint.

Peter moved to thrust against her again, this time pushing a wind of air through his teeth when Elizabeth met him with her own forceful sway of the hips. She leaned on her toes to kiss him hard, forcing his head to knock back against the bars.

"Do you remember when I told you that I don't do well in closed spaces?" She spoke in and out of breaths. He nodded, now fully consumed with the prospect of kissing, licking, and teasing the skin of her shoulder into all different shades of purple. "Well that sort of goes hand-in-hand with school. And it just so happened that your antics kept me stuck there in lockdown for nearly two hours."

The clink and jingle of the metal handcuffs snapped Peter's attention back to reality. In a matter of seconds, she had both of his wrists cuffed to the iron bars of the cell. Elizabeth pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw before her hand moved up to his neck to snap the necklace bearing the pixie dust. "The next time you decide to put the town on high alert, make sure that I am out of school."

"Elizabeth."

She smiled in jest to Peter's rousing anger. "I'm curious, when was the last time someone's put _you_ on timeout? Judging by your reaction, I'd say it's been a while." Elizabeth spun the necklace in circles around her finger. "Don't get too worked up - this won't last long. I'll have my mom let you out in time for school tomorrow morning. You kept me there for two hours, so I say the fair penalty is keeping you in here for twelve."

Peter leaned back against the bars. His eyes narrowed, "I'll just have to restart this entire game over. I'm sure my boys would _love _take another stroll through town."

"Probably," she smirked before walking out of the prison cell. Peter turned awkwardly, already struggling with the restriction of where his hands were cuffed high on the bars. She pulled out the sheriff keys from her back pocket and locked the cell tight. He eyed her with a pouting frown, as she expected he would, though his body language nonetheless remained need for her. He leaned against the bars of his cell, locks of his disheveled hair perked through the iron cage. His eyes obviously coming off as spiteful, though beneath that there was an essence of distraught that Elizabeth could not ignore or leave unaddressed.

She smiled and moved closer to the cell. "Good night, Peter," she murmured before kissing his cheek through the bars. He kept quiet and his glare fixed on her backside as she left the sheriff station for good.

* * *

Elizabeth pushed through the front doors and was suddenly caught with the shock of finding her mother already waiting outside. Emma's arms were crossed and she did her very best to come off as annoyed. She leaned on the hood of the sheriff car.

Elizabeth dropped her shoulders and trudged her feet over to the car. "I told you I could handle it. You didn't have to come out to get me."

"What was it, exactly, that you were handling? Did you find Peter?"

"Yeah, I think Tink will find that she's missing this from her jewelry box." She shoved the vial into her mother's hand. "Peter will be spending the night in the station. You have a night of clean streets, you're welcome."

Elizabeth strutted over to the passenger side of the car and climbed in without so much of another word to her confused and irritated mother.


	3. Skin

**Requested Prompt: "D****o you think you could write the first time that they had sex? like maybe in was when she was with him in Neverland? I don't even know haha but could it be like fluffy?"**

**Rating: ****_M_****(for smut) **

**Disclaimer: This takes place two months after Chapter 18 of Red Rebellion and before the epilogue. **

* * *

The underground waterfall crashed against the jagged stones and collected into the silvery basin below, taking up the expanse of the cavern floor. The cave was consumed in blackness, save one glimmer of moonlight that barely seeped through a crack in the outer wall. The ray of light crossed the cavern air to hit the center of the waterfall that came down from the unseen rocky rafters, filling the underground pool with the island's freshwater.

Lizzie crouched over the water's edge. Her toes curled along the flat top of the boulder as she reached down to cup a dripping handful. Her long blonde locks, which were barely just held back from her face by a flimsy leather string adorned in feathers and beading, slipped over her shoulders to fall over the cleavage of her breasts. She splashed the cold water against her cheeks to soak off the crusted paint that had dried and chunked over her pores. Her lips parted open in a gasp from the chill; goose bumps prickled beneath the beads of sweat down her neck as the icy bite of reality reclaimed her mind.

She, as well as Peter and the lost boys, had returned to Neverland. Not physically, of course - this was a dream - but enough so that the wilderness of the island resurfaced the instincts of the boys into a night of sheer euphoria with unforgotten games, music and hunt.

* * *

Earlier that afternoon, Elizabeth had left her home and rode to Sherwood Forest in an effort to find Peter, raging and on the verge of tears after an argument she had with her older brother, Henry. It was unlike Elizabeth to seek Peter out in broad daylight where she might risk his exposure to a scouting party or worse, her parents. Despite Peter never being a sentimental, his seeing Elizabeth in such a worked state was unbearable for him for the plain reason that she refused to explain _why_.

Elizabeth gave no answer as to the subject of the argument or what had spurred it on, which made it all the more challenging for him to figure a way to calm her down.

Spending dinner with Peter and the lost boys always came as a simple joy. A few hours of watching the younger boys play their games and the older ones compete in their swordplay brought on a sort of melancholy ease that relaxed the nervous strain in her neck. Peter remained close at her side throughout the night to offer the simple reminder through a gentle touch that he cared, as he was never good with words.

When the moon rose high at the peak of night Peter had to remind himself that he could not have her too much longer. Quite frankly he was shocked that the scouting parties had not yet traced her to the camp then. Judging from the lack of luster in her gaze and defensively enclosed arms, Peter could also deduce that Elizabeth was still bothered by her private worries. His inability to help her infuriated him. He thought she would have eventually come around by that point in the night to tell him what had truly happened; it wasn't like her to keep secrets, least of all to him.

It was her sullen, unwavering frown that prompted Peter to finally stand up from his seat on the recumbent forest log. The group fell silent around the campfire, as did Elizabeth, who had been sitting on the forest ground closest to the warming fire. Her head, which she had rested against his knee, lifted to turn and face him. Peter announced to Elizabeth and his boys that he wanted this night to be one not to be forgotten; a night where all their troubles are left abandoned. Though his words were directed to the entire camp, Elizabeth knew that this was his final attempt to break whatever concerns were plaguing her mind. A rush of guilt flushed to her cheeks.

Peter said nothing else to his perplexed followers. Instead he pulled out his pipes and began to play.

These were not his _Neverland_ pipes so it came as no surprise to Elizabeth that she could hear the lulling tune of his song. Instead of casting a charm over the boys to dance, a widespread feeling of exhaustion suddenly overcame the camp. Elizabeth's eyelids grew heavy and in a matter of a single minute, her mind was overtaken in a peaceful sleep.

The calm however did not last long. When the dream of Neverland greeted the lost boys and Elizabeth, the mischief immediately rekindled in their hearts.

The boys decided on spending hours embarking on adventurous games one after the other; they paraded the island dressed as "native savages" and reveled the dreamworld Neverland under the influence of their leader's casted bliss.

Unfortunately Peter's attempt to cloud Elizabeth's worries did not endure for too long. The fear gradually crept back into her brain and awakened her from the shrouded high while the rest of the boys continued to rejoice. For a reason that Peter had yet to understand, his magic - whether it was him flying her, helping her sleep, or easing her anxieties - could never held a strong influence over Elizabeth's mind.

Resolute to finally find some mental closure, Elizabeth left the boys at their Neverland campfire to seek out seclusion to think. It could have been anywhere; just quiet enough for her to address the thoughts that had not relented since Henry first shouted them at her. It was high time that she faced her brother's words and settled them, rather than allow them to fester in the back of her mind.

* * *

Elizabeth sighed. Staring down into her reflection projected from the water, she could see the horrific sorrow that weighed in her eyes. Her bottom lip rolled between her teeth. _No wonder Peter pulled out all of the stops_, she thought guiltily to herself. _If she could barely look at herself, how could he?_ With a quick flick of her fingers, she roused the water surface and rippled her despised reflection.

The water was disagreeably cold - ice cold, even - to the extent that a swim would surely cleanse her mind with her cumbersome thoughts. She pulled her dirtied blouse up over her head and tossed it aside, followed swiftly with her boots and trousers. Leaving nothing but her flimsy hiphuggers and bra on for coverage, she leaped forward into the air over the silvery pool.

Ice water gulfed her body with a fierce sharpness that slapped her senses awake and keen to immediately retreat. Her bare legs stretched down straight only to feel nothing but openness; the pool was deeper than she anticipated. The water tasted agreeably sweet.

She swam to the surface and dropped her head back to greet the crisp night air.

Footsteps echoed into the cave, prompting Elizabeth to turn to face the entrance. Peter stepped over the flooded rocks with ease; his feet found the scarce rock edges that barely protruded above the water's surface without him having to look down. His graceful walk over the perilous bounty of slippery stones should not have come as a surprise to Elizabeth, as this was Neverland and he knew the land's ins-and-outs.

Without having yet exchanged any words, Peter closed the distance to the rocky edge near where the waterfall crashed down over the weathered stones. He stood there with crossed arms and furrowed his brow at Elizabeth, who had been looking with a guilty curiosity. Silently, he extended his arm forward for her.

The clashing sounds of the waterfall were too loud for either of them to speak, so Elizabeth obliged to cross the pool towards him.

Peter glowered down at her with an irritated impatience, and she knew she could no longer bear the silence between them. He knelt down near the water's surface to be at even with her as she approached. Despite the cool shade of her lips and bumps along her fine skin, Elizabeth did not make a move to get out of the water.

"You left us back there without so much as a word," Peter stated over the waterfall. "Was our company so unsatisfactory for you?"

"No," she muttered. Her eyes darted away from his glare down to his laced boots then back up to his knuckles resting over his knees. "I just needed some time to think."

Peter's jaw flexed as his impatience for ungiven answers grew. He took a wistful breath before looking down to her arms treading water beneath the surface. "The water's too cold for swimming. Come out and talk." He offered his hand to her, one which she knew she had no choice to refuse, and pulled her out to greet a gentle wind that rustled within the cavern.

She huddled close to him as he wrapped an arm over her shoulder. A thick cotton cloth appeared between his forefingers, one which he promptly covered over her back. "Here," he spoke with a gentle voice. He motioned to a nearby boulder away from the chilly mist that lingered in the air from the waterfall. Peter's grip proved useful to help Elizabeth walk over the wet stones barefoot.

He did not join her at her side, but rather knelt in front of her between her knees. He knew that way, sitting close in front, she would have no choice but to talk. Peter glared up at her with what he meant to appear as annoyance, but what Elizabeth was able to recognize as need.

Her treatment to him in the prior few hours had been unfair; she had sought him out and expected him to just blindly distract and soothe the pain away without an explanation as to why.

She frowned, "I'm sorry." Peter remained quiet, refusing to give so much as an inch until she continued. "I got into a fight with Henry today," she began slowly. "He's been suspicious of you since New Year's and everything kind of just blew up today when he confronted me about it."

Peter casually found Elizabeth's hand sitting in her lap and laced his fingers through hers. "And?"

"He said some things and I got angry." She shrugged with a veil of nonchalance. "The whole thing just really got me worked up and I haven't been able to let it go."

"What did he say?" Peter cocked his head to the side. A slight twitch to her lip exposed her vulnerability and Peter sensed the awkward discomfort begin to rise within her. His thumb brushed along the underside of her wrist. It was then that she noticed how calloused and dry his knuckles had gotten from the centuries of Neverland's scorching climate. "Avoiding the subject is not going to solve anything, Lizzie."

Her smile dissipated to reveal her underlying anguish. A light breath escaped her lips as she averted her gaze back down to her lap. "He said that you were destructive; selfish; that it's impossible to prevent you from returning to Neverland. He said that whatever's going on between us could only be temporary because there's nothing in this world that you value more than your immortality, and that I was only kidding myself if I thought I could be any different." She swallowed, "He said that if I stayed with you, I would get my heart broken."

Peter blinked up at her. The silence between them for that moment weighed heavily, and he wasn't sure what could be said to alleviate the shuddering of her jaw or nervous flutter of her gaze. He raised his finger up to her chin, the hardened skin of his palm rested just beneath her jaw to hold her steady. "Do you believe him?"

"I don't want to," she admitted. "I know that you care; I know that you're trying."

He raised his brow, "But?"

Elizabeth hesitated, "But Neverland's been your home for centuries. It's where you're strongest; where you have all the control; where people respect you most. You might not miss it today or tomorrow, but in month? A year? What will happen on your next real birthday when you start to notice your body aging?" Her sapphire eyes grew somber. "I don't want to be another game that you grow tired of and abandon."

Peter gawked up at her in astonishment. She almost guessed by his reaction that her confession struck him as an insult. Elizabeth leaned her cheek against his palm, "I'm sorry."

Elizabeth mistook the look of passion in Peter's eyes as rage. She anticipated the heated words and accusatory blows as to why she had such issues with trust and why she couldn't give him a proper chance.

She was not expecting his quick move to capture her lips with his own, nor did she anticipate his fingers to smooth over the back of her neck and cradle her head. He curled his other hand behind her waist to hold her flush against him, moving in even closer to the extent that their chests pressed together.

Peter had always embraced passion more so than anything; she was familiar with his steadfast and crazed embraces as they so often came. Though now, together and alone in that cave, she sensed something changed within him which signaled the light caress of his fingers against her skin and the slow all-consuming worship through his lips. His touch was as gentle as the light sigh that warmed her cheek.

Peter straightened his knees to stand, and in doing so, pulled Elizabeth back up onto her feet. Her fingers instinctively found the back of his head where they could weave and grip his golden roots, as his tongue smoothed in deeper to brush against her own. They clung onto each other's frames - an unresolved desperation took root and possessed them to speak in action rather than words.

Neither of them realized that they had taken steps backwards towards the waterfall until it was too late and Peter felt the first stray droplets whip down onto his cheek. He did not relent from his path, nor did Elizabeth, who in the instant of feeling the sting of the water decided that she would endure the worst if it meant she didn't have to part from him.

Much to her dismay, Peter did in that moment retreat back to gape at her breathlessly. He dropped his fingers back down to grasp hers and lead her backwards through the plummeting waterfall. She stumbled forward into the hurtling water alit by the glimmer of moonlight. The water bashed down on her head for only a short instant before she came out the other side. Peter found her mouth again - he now just as wet and cold as herself.

They had discovered a secluded outlet of the rocks where the waterfall just barely missed. The single ray of moonlight that shined into the cavern struck the center of the waterfall and came out through the other side as a widespread aura that filled the secret orifice with a hazed blue glow. Peter squinted his eyes through the droplets dribbling down from his hair stuck over his forehead. It was not the first time he had seen her wearing nothing more than her undergarments; however, _this_ was new all the same. There was an enlightened gleam now in Peter's eyes when he gazed down at her in awe - this wild, blue-eyed beauty cast her charm over him with a single smile.

Elizabeth let the blanket fall from her shoulders and slip over the edge into the pool. With his hand curled over her waist, Peter lured her around to turn his back on the translucent barrier that led out to the rest of Neverland.

She leaned back and felt the jagged edge of the wall press against her back. Her eyes snapped open - lips parted, gasping to replenish her air - and leaned forward. The shift in direction had Peter stumbling backwards.

Her fingers had already fell down and latched onto the bottom hem of his shirt before she gave herself the opportunity to think. She tugged upwards on the wet fabric. Peter solicited one a breathy groan of instigation before leaning back to aggressively peel off both his green and brown undershirt. Her hands clung onto his wrists that were still caught above his head as her lips demanded his once more. She heard the _plop_ of Peter's water-logged clothing before she felt the press of his contoured chest against her own.

His hand slid down to the bottom of her hip to support her as they maneuvered down to the flat rocky floor. She leaned back until she felt the chill of the cold stone against her spine. It hardly went noticed, however, as Peter situated himself above her. His hands were planted firmly on either side of her to keep himself steady as their lust grew into a sort of full-blooded frenzy. Elizabeth arched her back up, yearning to feel the warmth of his chest; aching to feel all that was left of him kept hidden beneath his trousers soaked cold.

Her fingers fell down to his brown leather belt only to fumble blindly with the front buckle. She felt Peter's lips curve into a smile before his fingers rested calmly over hers, helping to alleviate the strain and unfasten it with ease. He then returned to her - fervent all-consuming mouth-to-mouth - that barely spared her a second to catch her breath. Her hands splayed over his lean abs as he moved against her. He swayed his hips in such a way against her that slowly began to drive her mad.

"Peter, I…"

"No," he murmured before lowering himself down onto his elbows. Elizabeth tugged on the pant loops of his loosened trousers to free him of the cold, soaking wet confinement. She felt his sigh of relief brush over her cheeks as he leaned his head back to better kick his feet out of the pant legs.

By the time he had turned back to her, Elizabeth had shed her last remnants of clothing to be finally completely bare. He leaned back down over her - hands resting on either side of her cheeks, the heat shared between their bodies pressed against the other - and Peter couldn't help but pause as he hesitated just inches from the allure of those two bright pools of sea staring back. Elizabeth's ivory skin was flush with breathlessness. Her lips had reddened and were propped open for air. He felt the stroke of her fingers smooth over his backside and brush through his wet shaggy locks.

Elizabeth ushered him back down with a tender kiss. As one of his hands were left to brush along the side of her temple, the other drifted down to palm her breast. Elizabeth sucked the air out from his lungs and nipped at his lips, prompting a lustful groan to rumble out from his throat. She could feel him - all of him - react to her every movement like clockwork.

Stray droplets of freshwater caught Elizabeth's fingers as they dribbled down the ridges of Peter's back. She dragged the blunt ends of her nails over his fine skin. He ran his hand down the underside of her leg before raising her knee to rest over his shoulder. She heaved out a soft sigh against his neck that livened Peter's heartbeat into a pounding cadence.

Cold mist drifted from the waterfall and coated them in an icy spray, serving as the only refreshment to the sweat aligning along their impassioned forms.

He pulled back ever so slightly. "A game," he chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not playing any game with you." He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked a breath through his teeth. His body trembled with a nervous preparation to say what he knew deep in his heart to be true though came as a fright, even to him. Still consumed in all his euphoria over her, Peter breathed out the words in haste. "I won't abandon you; I can't."

They crashed against each other more strongly and passionate than ever before, with no barriers or excuses left between them. Her gut coiled and twisted with a craving that burned her insides, calling for _all of him_ and finally there was no hesitance or doubt in her mind left to cloud her conscience.

Her hand fell down to his upper thigh and drew him in closer. She could feel him press against her. For a fleeting second she reminded herself of the reality that this was to be her _first time_ and more importantly, that this was supposed to hurt.

Having noticed the nervous glint settle in her eyes, Peter hesitated above her. Her eyes fluttered close for a moment's hesitation before opening again. Peter rested his hand along the side of her temple. His forefinger brushed a wet, golden lock to the side of her cheek.

She then smiled up at him. With the hand that rested on the back of his neck, Elizabeth led Peter down to capture his mouth and grant him sanction to continue.

He moved in with a deliberate and gentle slowness. Elizabeth held her breath to endure the initial pinching discomfort. Her eyes flinched upon experiencing the tear, though were soothed by the grazing kisses Peter bestowed over her closed lids. Elizabeth's breathing eased as he fully settled into her.

He paused there to give them both a moment to adjust. He lowered his forehead to rest over hers as his jaw hung slack. His breathing had gone shallow, as the simple _feel_ of being engulfed within her now utterly overwhelmed him.

In the time it took for her body to adjust, Elizabeth let her hands roam up his biceps, along the contours of his shoulders and then finally down to his chest. She took the initiative to rock her hips, bringing him in deep enough for her to let out another heavy moan. Peter brushed the tip of his nose down the sides of her cheek until his lips found that sensitive area just below her ear. "You are so perfect," he murmured into her skin.

His mouth then began to work thoroughly on the unblemished skin of her neck - kissing, sucking, and nipping all the areas he could reach, as rocked into her at a slow and steady speed. "God, Peter," Elizabeth whimpered. "Peter, don't stop." Upon her pleas, Peter's doting attention became a complete ravaging of her skin. Elizabeth's nails dug into the muscles of his back as they flexed with every drive. "Please don't ever stop."

Whether it was the radical shift in angle or impassioned suckle of his lips to the skin just above her breast, a wild cry suddenly escaped out from Elizabeth that flared Peter's senses.

He did not hesitate to thrust back again, adjusting his hips to continue to hit that same spot that seemingly drove her wild. His pace quickened - thrusting and kissing and marking all of her at once - while his body coiled and churned and burned for release. Elizabeth's breathing turned to moans and broken whimpers for Peter to move harder as her sight turned to black stars that consumed her vision whole.

Suddenly with a lively shift of her hips, Elizabeth rolled them over to settle on top. Peter sat straight up. His arms curled up her backside to hold her steady propped in his lap. With this new position of dominance, Elizabeth assumed the control. She kept up at an even faster pace of rise and fall, which soon wrecked Peter into a writhing mess reduced to shuddering moans against her neck. She could feel him shaking and breaking within her; his composure was slipping.

She slowed and leaned forward, this time claiming his neck as her marking ground. Peter's hands fell down to Elizabeth's hips to steady her. She interrupted his broken plea by bestowing a tender kiss along the outer shell of his ear.

It was then that Peter finally winced his eyes shut to welcome the surge of hot tension washed through him all at once. The sound of his writhing moan was the final catalyst to she Elizabeth spiraling over the edge. She cried his name out against his neck while her body shuddered like a falling leaf within his arms.

Moans became weakened groans, and slowly, Peter lowered the two of them back down to the stone floor of the cave. There, the sheer euphoria of their buzzing minds turned into a shared slumber.

* * *

Peter awoke to the sharp chill of dawn that engulfed his treehouse bedroom.

The smell of the lost boys' dead campfire from last night seeped in through the cracks of the floorboards.

Neverland was no more, as the unobstructed yellow light that shined in from the windows suggested a new morning in Sherwood Forest. The night in Neverland had been spent and it was time now to arise from such fantasies into a bitter reality. Peter noticed immediately upon awakening that his body was coated in the thin layer of sweat and that his heart was racing. More importantly, Peter realized that he did not share this bed alone.

Elizabeth was nestled with her back curled up against his chest. His arm was slung over her waist to hold her close. He brushed his toes up the side of her smooth calves, causing her to stir only for a moment before settling back into his arms. He chuckled blissfully.

Though he was never bothered by the cold of a winter chill, Peter did notice the goose bumps that prickled over Elizabeth's skin. All that covered his bed was a thin white sheet; enough for him, but never for anyone else accustomed to living in warmer conditions. He leaned in and brushed a kiss against the bare skin of her back. "Good morning," he murmured, half to himself because he didn't actually anticipate her response.

She stirred again. This time rather than settle back to sleep, Elizabeth turned over to face him. Her eyes squinted open against the morning light to view his tired, boyish grin. He adjusted his arms to pull her in closer. They entwined their legs and arms together into one single body of warmth.

Elizabeth tilted her head up to his chin. "What happened?"

"That's not sort of remark I was hoping for."

"No," she giggled softly. "No, I remember all that. I meant why did we leave so quickly? I was expecting the night to last longer."

"Perhaps it was because Neverland didn't want us there anymore," Peter answered evenly. "Only children can reap the benefits of the island's dreamstate. It's very possible that the island condoned us for our behavior last night."

"Wow, I got Peter Pan kicked out of dreamworld Neverland. I should get a medal for that." She laughed bitterly. "My parents probably disowned me last night." She paused to glance up at late-morning light. "I don't know what time it is, but I'd say I'm dead either way."

She could feel his lips curl into a grin against the soft skin of her neck. He pulled his arm off of her waist and held it above the white crumpled sheet that covered them. With a definite wave of his hand, the sheet puffed into a heavy white duvet. Elizabeth hummed with delight to the newly given warmth. She shied her face away from the light by snuggling down into his chest. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders to gather heat.

Peter bestowed another kiss along her shining golden roots. "Stay with me then; we'll have no more talk of Neverland or parents." He murmured, "Just go back to sleep."

And she did, shamelessly, for another six hours.


	4. Halloween

Requested Prompt: "Oh Please!? Can you do a LizPan set in Storybrooke during a Halloween costume party, where they both are in costume but Lizzie is dressed as Pan?! ...I want this so badly - you are my hope 3"

Rating: T (for sensual content, though no smut)

_Sorry this is a month late! I've been traveling Europe over the past month so it's been difficult to find a few hours to sit down with my laptop._

* * *

With one arm clutching the pillow case to her chest and the other hand pinching the shells of her black heels, Elizabeth tip-toed barefoot down the stairs with the front door in sight. The house was warm and infatuated with the aroma of cinnamon and pumpkin spice. She could hear the white noise from the television spill out into the hallway from the living room, as the door was left open ajar.

Normally this would be the sign that the coast was clear and that she could high-tail it out. Unfortunately as tonight was Halloween, Elizabeth knew that her father no doubt had his hearing alert for two sounds: a) the doorbell and b) his daughter's departure.

She breathed heavily through her teeth. The cushions of her toes slid down each wooden paneled step at the slowest pace possible. Her fingers gripped the railing to alleviate her weight. Her eyes flashed up from the steps towards the door that led into the living room and then back down to the remaining three steps she had left to conquer.

Her toes tickled the surface of the floor to test for any betraying wooden panels that would creak under pressure. There was one particular floorboard in the hallway that squeaked even under the lightest admission of weight. It was a malevolent little board - unassuming with no distinguishable grain marks or color to identify it out from the rest of the floor - however she had a strong sense of it just from the years spent living in the house. She was convinced that Killian had found some way to loosen it more and more with every passing year after she hit puberty.

In the prior hour that Elizabeth spent applying her makeup and dressing in her costume, someone had laid out an obnoxiously large pumpkin throw rug that ran from the last step of the stairwell to the front door. The girl's eyes narrowed down at the pumpkin, which taunted her back with its goofy toothy smile. This had the work of her father written all over it.

There was no chance in hell that her mother would be seeing any time off from the station tonight, that much she already knew. It had been a few years since Emma last took off Halloween. She used to rotate the holiday with Elizabeth's grandfather, David, so that they would have every other year to spend with the family. Now that Elizabeth and James's generation had reached their teenage years, the parents had evolved from hand holding to squad cars as a means to keep track of them.

Elizabeth eyed the floor rug suspiciously, though she knew it would be more detrimental to linger for too long. She had to make her escape before the doorbell rang again. With slow and steady steps, she moved down into the hall. Her black sheer tights absorbed the sound that the impact of her toes made against the polished floor.

Her heart leapt out of her chest with anticipation. She stretched her fingers to wrap around the doorknob, even more careful in her dealings of turning the knob without making a sound.

Elizabeth leaned in close to the crack of the door. Using all of her body weight, she steadily unhinged the door open.

The success of her stealthiness turned to her downfall when she suddenly yanked the door open further to make her escape. Unfortunately Elizabeth did not notice the chained deadbolt still that still linked the door to its hinge. A disruptive bang was followed by excessive rattling as Elizabeth fumbled to close the door and unlock the chain.

In the matter of seconds it took to slide out the chain, the kitchen door down the short distance of the hallway opened. She heard her father's slow and calculated steps approach her from behind.

He chuckled, "Are we in a rush to leave somewhere?"

"As a matter of fact," She turned on the balls of her feet to face her father, "I am. It's Halloween, I have plans tonight."

"Is it? I hardly noticed," Killian mocked at the exuberant display of candy left on the end table beside the door. "Where might I ask, will you be celebrating your festivities tonight?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she perked wryly with a cocked brow.

"Yes, _as a matter of fact_, I would," he mused. "Darling, don't think for a second that you'll be permitted to spend the entire night frolivanting through the streets without first at least offering a valid excuse as to where and with whom."

The girl's shoulders dropped as she huffed out an emphatic sigh. "Daddy, come on. It's one night." She held the pillowcase bag tighter to her chest. As subtle as the motion was, Killian's bright blue eyes fell down on the suspicious bag. "You didn't seriously expect me to stay home to pass out Snickers, did you?"

"No, I suppose not." His grim smile did little to hide the disappointment that his daughter no longer found his company enjoyable on these festive nights. Gone were the years that she would sit on his shoulders, all sparkles and swords and giggles, as they traveled door-to-door for candy.

Elizabeth leaned back to reach for the door knob. "Well if that's all…-"

"Now, just a moment," Killian raised his hand out. "You know very well that I can't allow you to leave without my first checking that you are indeed wearing clothing."

"You're not serious."

"Love, I'm all too serious. I will not tolerate you wearing one of those tasteless, provocative night gowns that women have taken to wearing on this night."

She sighed, "I give you my word that I'm not wearing any sort of tasteless, provocative costume. Can I please go?"

He shook his head then motioned down to the long, oversized cape that she kept wrapped around her body. "You will not find a way around this, Elizabeth. Show me first what you're wearing and then, of course only with my permission, will you be free to go."

"What, is my word not good enough for you?"

"You've got that look."

Elizabeth glared wide-eyed, "What look?"

"That one," he nodded at her with a smirk. "The one that alerts me to whenever you plan on committing maleficence.

"I am not!" She insisted with wide, all-too-innocent eyes. "It's called trick-or-treat; not pillage-and-plunder. Besides it's not like I'd do anything when Mom's on patrol."

He tilted his head to the side, inquiring with only his raised brows that his impatience was leaning slim. The silence grew heavy between them and Elizabeth considered for the briefest moment to turn and run. "I'll strike an accord with you," Killian began. "Either you show me your costume or you reveal the hidden contents of which you seem so keen on guarding in that pillow sack.

Her fingers curled into the plush contents of her bag. She resolutely stepped forward and released the hems of the cape so that it fell at her sides.

She hadn't dressed as a pirate in years.

Her costume was modest enough for Killian's standards, in fact he'd wager that most of the pieces (save the short tailored skirt) were authentic to the Enchanted Forest. Her loose-fitted black undershirt peeked out from her dark leather vest that she strung up from her waist. Her hair was curled with the top strands wrapped neatly around to fall behind. The silver buckle of her belt was adorned with a finely engraved kraken that stretched down the front of the leather, glistening under the warm artificial lamp light. He then understood why she went with so little makeup this year. With the exception to the shadow of black drawn above and below her eyes, her skin remained fairly natural to her ivory tone.

Killian had seen her in the Halloween costumes befitting to this realm - cheap and poorly sewn wastes of fabric that they were - though he had never actually seen her dressed as a pirate authentic to the Enchanted Forest.

He felt a simultaneous twinge of paternal pride and panic.

"Am I free to go, or do I first need to fetch you a tissue?" She mocked with a half-smirk. "I asked Tink to make me something that looked genuine."

He smiled warmly, "She's quite the seamstress."

"Uh yeah," Elizabeth concurred. She shifted her weight between her feet and itched the back of her ear. "So does this mean I have the Captain's approval?"

A twitch of a smile graced Killian's cheek before he nodded. "It seems I can't force you to remain here. I do expect your return no later than one."

Elizabeth crossed her arms, "Two."

"One thirty," he groused, "and no later. Your mother returns home at two, by which time I expect you here."

"Aye, aye." She gave him a lackadaisical salute before turning on her heels to make a swift departure. The door opened to welcome a rush of cool autumn night air. Killian shrugged as his daughter slipped into the night, followed by the gentle thud of the heavy door.

* * *

The establishment was once a sailors' bar, though as it seemed, even in a town comprised of magic, hope and belief, some people were not as fortunate in their endeavors to earn a happy ending. The business had gone under a certain number of years ago.

It was nestled the far corner of the Storybrooke Marina: sufficiently close to the downtown festival as to not attract attention to the number of students walking together, though far enough from the residential districts and main roads to avoid catching the eye of the Sheriff.

Like the rings that yielding the span of time within a mother willow's bark, the blanket of dust that coated the interior of the building gave way to the several lonely years that the bar endured following its abandonment. The wall paper scrapings that had fallen were pushed aside to bunch into the cobwebbed corners as the window bore little more than stray, sharp-edged shattered window glass.

In the short hours before the Halloween festivities commenced throughout town, the new freshmen recruits of the Storybrooke football team were given the responsibility of decorating the space. They provided certain necessities such as strobe lighting, the installment of beer kegs, readied towers of unused red solo cups, as well as the set-up of the fog machine. Trash bags were taped over thick blankets, only then to be draped over the crooked panes that once served as windows.

Come nightfall the space was brimmed with students from all grades and all social groups. The barren bar was restocked with an assortment of the cheapest liquor snuck out from their parents' stores. Empty nip bottles and broken solo cups compiled over the scattered tables that were lined against the walls.

Felix pushed through the line of people crowded around the door. He was followed closely at the heels by Devin. They were dressed to match, as all of the lost boys were on that Halloween night. The color of darkness consumed their figures - they were clothed shoulder to toe in a black collared shirt and trouser ensemble - complete with a novelty costume cloak. Their facial features were hidden behind black demon masks which offered any onlooker chilling, animated grins. Earlier that evening, amidst the crowds of Storybrooke citizens that lingered in the decorated downtown square, Henry had spotted a group of lost boys matching in their costumes. He had frozen in his place by a lapse of panic, mistaking them to be authentic shadows reminiscent of the one that had belonged to Pan all those years ago in Neverland.

Indeed the lost boys were shadow minions, all serving a greater darkness who had yet to make his presence known that night.

"Is this mask really necessary?" Devin shouted over the music. He pulled at the rubbery nose to welcome a rush of cool fresh air against his cheeks.

Felix titled his head towards his companion. "Why don't you take it off and find out yourself?"

"No," the boy detracted. "No, I don't need to. I'm fine."

"Then quit asking stupid questions. We have a job to do."

"You mean, you do." Devin mocked, "We wouldn't be here if you had just paid attention to our laundry. We could be with the rest of the boys, out celebrating…-" Felix whipped his body around in a flash. His knuckles curled a ball of Devin's shirt as the rest of Devin's lanky body was flung into the back wall. Seething, Felix stalked up close to the face of his comrade.

"I were you I'd pay more attention to what comes out of your mouth rather than what's on it. No one is celebrating tonight - not while there's someone in Storybrooke that's stupid enough to try and run off with Pan's trousers."

Devin swallowed, "It wasn't just his trousers…-"

Felix's other hand gripped the boy's throat to silence his jest. "Tonight you will do as I say. The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth is 'I found the clothes.' Is that simple enough for you to remember?" The boy shook his head fervently, eager to breathe as Felix's hand relaxed off his windpipe. "Good."

The boys shrugged off their heated exchange and immediately turned back to the party that resumed around them. Beyond the bar was an open floor designated for the hot and heavy dancers. The DJ booth was stationed on the far corner of the stage that lined the back wall. The three primary colors were fogged beams that turned over the party goers jumping together against the beat as one collective mass.

"Oh no," Devin groused. Felix considered giving him another good whack across the back of the head before he too noticed the in-pour of the rest of their brotherhood. Lost boys filed into the bar one-by-one, all sporting the same dark costume as the other.

"Go back," Felix ordered. Devin gave his lost brother a questioning look before earning a smack against the back of his head. "Now."

The two boys met the others by the entrance as their leader stepped through the doors. He wore the same black trouser and collar shirt ensemble as the rest of them. He did, however, distinguish himself through the compliments of red that were adorned in the fine material of his cape and mask. The eloquent dark red stitch work that ran up the backside of his black cape could only be seen in passing under the lights, which was no doubt stolen from Rumplestiltskin's store of regal clothing hidden in the closed back-section of his pawn shop. His mask was of similar craft. The upper-half of his face was concealed behind the fire-red shell. Atop the edge of the mask were two sharp horns that protruded out from his golden hair.

He was appropriately the King of Darkness.

Peter's fury had been crackling beneath those two eyeholes since the beginning of the night when he first heard word that their clothes had gone missing - _his_ clothes. It was turning out to be the biggest waste of a Halloween night. While the rest of his followers spent the first hours of the night failing to recover what had been stolen, Peter had spent most of the time preoccupied with deciding what cruel punishment would come to Felix once all of the mediocre celebrations came to an end. He reached down to grasp his bare wrist beneath his cloak; the feeling of skin-on-skin in the place of his leather bands felt all too wrong.

He glared back up to the crowds ahead. His eyes narrowed through his mask into the audience in search of what he sensed to be near. Somewhere in this crowded space of sweat, fog and hormones, there was an imposter who had the audacity to pose as the Neverland King. The reality was a blow to his pride as he considered that his feared reputation would be somewhat tarnished by the ridiculous outrage of it all, and for that reason, he gave the order for all of his boys to rejoin him here at this one spot.

After the few hours of scouring through the downtown area, it was made clear to him that the adults knew better. There was no one else in town stupid enough to test Pan. These teenagers, who were all born after his trials with Henry all those years ago, were still ripe with ignorance. The thief was as brash as he was foolish to think that he'd get away with this, and there was no place else that he'd be than with the rest of the ignorant adolescents of Storybrooke.

Felix nudged his way past the shoulder-to-shoulder congestion towards his leader, who had already begun to eye him with a narrow annoyance. Pan turned to the rest of the boys and nodded for them continue ahead, thus stretching the reach of his black shadows all throughout the bar. "Nothing yet," Felix spoke evenly.

"Something tells me that our thief is waiting for opportune time to make his presence known." Peter crossed his arms and peered out overhead the bopping heads, "Have you seen Elizabeth yet?"

Felix furrowed his brow. "I thought she was staying behind, away from this lot with the other two girls."

Peter scoffed with a twisted smirk. "Do you truly believe that she'd stay in one place all night, especially with a costume like the one Tink made up for her?" He crossed his arms, "She'll find her way here soon enough."

At the far end of the bar well into the center of the dance floor, an eruption of sharp whistles and jeers rose above the booming bass and reached the lost boys' ears. Peter and Felix both turned in the direction of the rising hollers to where they spotted two hooded figures climb the barstools onto the empty expanse of the stage.

A group of four boys - all of whom dressed as the Ghostbusters - offered their hands to assist the two figures as they climbed their way up onto the platform. They poked holes into the musty bar stool cushions with the narrow heels of their leather boots as their faces were kept veiled beneath the shadows cast by their hooded cloaks.

These cloaks, like the rest of their attire save their girlish boots, were the genuine-make of a lost boys' uniform. Maddie betrayed her disguise first, as her red hair spilled out over her busts, curling outward from the restricting hem of her wool cloak which belonged to Felix, and attracted the gleam of the red strobe light that ran over her.

Felix chuckled, "Looks like we found our two thieves."

"Three," Peter corrected lightly. He beheld the third figure as she came into view from behind. A glint of intrigue alighted his green eyes beneath the fiery redness of his mask. Peter's animosity dissipated and was replaced with a flaming revelation as the third figure moved up into the center light.

She reached her arms up for Maddie and Rose to both grasp. Out from beneath the cloak, Peter recognized his two leather bands tied over her skinny wrists. With the help of the two girls, the third figure made her way up the chairs with the utmost grace. She stepped forward to assume the center stage between her two companions as the crowd hailed her with cheers.

Peter would have driven his knuckles through the whistling boy's teeth had he not been so completely enamored himself.

Maddie twirled with hysterical giggles as she spotted Felix's scowl below amongst faces of the crowds. They lifted their arms and cheered. In turn, the crowds roused with an even louder response of laughter and screams.

The third figure turned on the heels of her boots. Her sea blue eyes were never brighter than that moment beneath the stage lights. She smiled down at the faces of her classmates, laughing with all the confidence that Halloween could ever offer, and Peter's heart nearly pounded out of his chest. The girls pulled back their hoods simultaneously. Though at this point there wasn't much of a surprise left in their identity, the reaction of applause had reached a deafening boom.

Elizabeth stepped forward and pinched her shoulders to pull down her cloak further. The material draped down from her body and bunched onto the musty stage floor.

Peter had never realized until that moment how well-suited Elizabeth was to the color green.

Beginning from where the cloak was left abandoned in a pile, she stood in the soles of Peter's laced boots. She had laced the boots as tightly as possible to better accommodate their difference in foot size. The curve of her slender calves were sculpted up until her knees where she had slipped into his frayed dark grey trousers. The ragged material hugged her thighs like a loose glove, creasing and curving over her feminine shape with the barest amount of extra material loose at the front where Peter naturally needed more room. The tattered hem of his forest-green shirt hung loose over her hips and remained baggy for the most part, save where his brown leather belt tucked the fabric in to outline her slimmed form. She had tugged his laced brown undershirt down to play at her cleavage while her long golden curls spilled over shoulders, front and back.

Most startling of all was the inner-possession of mischief that twisted her naturally soft smile. There was something in her demeanor that possessed her entirely mischievous. The confidence was unlike any excitement Peter had ever witnessed, reminiscent of the Neverland spirit.

The colored lights bathed over her as she danced in circles. Red, blue, yellow, and then finally green - Elizabeth was alighted in an aura that cast her as no less than a Neverland queen.

It was as if just by wearing his clothes, the spirit of the eternal island had taken root within her and twisted her virtues to become wild. She had the control of the entire room; just with a mere smile or turn she had the party-goers roaring for more.

Peter was the only person who remained still in the cramped enclosure of people. It took her no time at all to spot him standing ahead. Looking through the thick shell of his mask which covered the upper-half of his face, Elizabeth could see the glimmer of his gaze reflected under the lights in passing.

She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. Rose and Maddie obliged her notion to retire from the spotlight and make their way back down to the floor. It was easy for them to get down, as loads of people were already piled against the stage to assist with hands.

Elizabeth slipped down to the ground gracefully. Having retrieved the cloak that she initially left discarded on the stage, it wasn't difficult for her to find the closest of the lost boys in reaching distance to surrender the first item of their stolen clothing. She wasted no time in finding Peter again, only this time posed with the task of reaching him amidst the impossible lack of room to push through the people surrounding her.

Empty glasses that were abandoned on the tables and chairs nearby vibrated from the overwhelming pounding of the bass. She leaned on her toes with the hopes of spotting some sort of route she might take to get by the crowds, though noticed she did not have to get far as Peter had already began to make his approach. He found no difficulty in getting people to move out of his way; his reputation proceeded him well enough at least for that.

They verged at the center where the lights shined brightest. She smiled upon his welcome approach amidst the chaos that surrounded them. Peter reached out for her waist - the familiar feel of his shirt slipped between his fingers - and he reared her towards him to catch the sweet cherry taste of her lip gloss. His other hand wove deep into the back roots of her hair as she leaned her head to the side. The devil horns atop his mask were pushed crooked as her nose nuzzled the rim of the hard shell.

They parted back, both mouths hung slack to invite air, though neither pulling away. Their breaths tickled the other's face. Her sharp blue eyes burned into his awestruck green. Her arms had wrapped under his cloak to grip fistfuls of his black collar shirt along his back. Elizabeth leaned up on her toes to kiss the curve of his ear. "I heard you were looking for me," she smirked. "I half-expected you to put up a ransom."

Peter chuckled, his hands fell down to her waist where he could feel her hips gently swaying to the deafening bass. He mimicked her sentiment by brushing his lips against her neck. "Fortunately I hadn't," he murmured against her skin, "or else I would have missed that wonderful little performance."

"It's Halloween; I'm entitled to theatrics." Her fingers tugged at his roots under the delicious pinch of his teeth against the skin of her neck. Heat coiled below her stomach and her breathing grew course. "Easy, Satan. We wouldn't want to get blood on your precious shirt."

"It's been through far worse," he admitted with a breathy chuckle. She could feel the curve of his grin move up to just below her ear. Peter lifted his head back to her where he could best see the wild ferocity lingering in her eyes. "On the contrary I'd say that shirt appeals to you better than it did ever for me."

She smiled, "I never realized how comfy it was until I put it on. You might not be getting this back."

The rise and fall of the drop beat had people jumping, screaming, laughing, waving arms and fists in the air as to pound away the artificial fog that drifted over their head. Elizabeth and Peter pressed themselves firmly into the other; her back turned to mold against his chest as his arms encompassed her waist. She was hidden within the reach of his black cape as his fully enveloped her in his arms, giving no onlooker anymore satisfaction of relishing in her wild sight. The fog machine billowed out clouds of white that blurred the sharp strobe lights of color into a hazed rainbow aura.

Elizabeth senses had nulled into a euphoric ecstasy. The chemical smell of fog cleansed her airways. The heart-stopping pulse of the music muted the stray thoughts in her mind to be replaced only with the feel of Peter and the mystique glow of colors that radiated above her head. She leaned back onto his shoulder; her face turned in towards his chest as he bent low to press his lips to her neck once more.

The song changed into a low, pounding beat so loud that it vibrated the tables and chairs and sent chills up the spines of every person standing. She relished in the sensation and grinded up against him. Her breath hitched as she felt his arousal through his black-washed denims. The hard shell of his mask smoothed over her chin as his peppered kisses drew lower to her collarbone. Her hand slid up behind his neck to tease his scalp with her nails. With every passing beat, he grew needier and his fingers curled harder into her hips. She tilted her head up, nudging the side of his mask to recapture the attention of his lips. With her back still pressed to his front, Elizabeth claimed his mouth for a searing exchange of teeth and tongue. In her excitement Elizabeth nipped his bottom lip to just barely draw a taste of blood though still enough to elicit a feral growl from his airways.

"Were you expecting these clothes back tonight, then?" She perked in a breathless manner. "I should tell you that without Rose and Maddie, getting out of these layers may be a bit tough on my own."

"I'm sure I can think of a few ways to accommodate you. Then again, what with _all these layers_, you might be bit late for your dear father's curfew." He chuckled, "It was my understanding that you would arrive dressed just like him tonight."

"I decided last minute that the pirate look was too cliché. I wanted to be something more original, something a bit more dangerous."

His hand roamed up her stomach to play with the open hem of the outer green shirt. "So your first thought was to steal my clothes?"

Her smile turned coy as she felt his fingers drawing up the front of her cleavage. "It's not like there is anyone else in the town who'd think to dress up like you."

"Not if they'd wish to survive by the end of the night." He kissed peppered kisses up the bridge of her nose to her hairline. "Luckily for you, you're not just anyone else in town."

"Exactly," she grinned mischievously before turning around in his arms. Peter kept his cape wrapped around her to share the intimate space only for themselves. Her fingers reached up the front of his face to peel off the mask. Fluffs of his hair were disheveled in all directions as she pulled the crafted red shell off the top of his head. He bent down to capture her there, offering a deep searing kiss that sucked the breath straight out from her lungs. She clung onto his shoulders, smiling against his molded lips.

He could swear he tasted the sweet Neverland springs on the tip of her tongue.

Suddenly, the lights flashed on all throughout the pub. Drunken teenagers shrieked and groaned when three officers moved in through the entrance with the unwelcome flash of hands lights. Elizabeth could hear their shouting for everyone to _get outside_ as _the party was over_.

"Come with me." Peter took her hand to lead her out the back.

"No," she frowned back at the officers. "Let me talk to them."

"Elizabeth..."

"Peter, please," she pleaded. "They're not going to arrest their boss's daughter. If they know I'm here, they might let everyone off." Peter's glare widened with stubborn disagreement, causing her to laugh and brush a light kiss to his flexing jaw. "I'll find you later to give these back, I promise."

He gave her one last glare of disagreement, though he knew well enough that their chance for a stealthy escape was gone. His hands relaxed at her hips. He took a reluctant step back from her and nodded back to the officers standing at the door. "Go on then." She could only spare him one final smile before turning and disappearing into the masses swarming out towards the doors.

Elizabeth nudged her way through until she stepped forward to greet the first closest officer. He jumped back from surprise when she put her hand on his shoulder. His flashlight beamed into Elizabeth's eyes causing her to wince back from the blind spots that engulfed her vision.

"Hey whoa, Granddad, it's me!" She waved for David to lower the flashlight. "It's just me."

David gawked down at his granddaughter, at first with an astonishment of recognition which then sullied into disappointment. "Elizabeth, you're here too? I had hoped that you and James would be smart enough to avoid a place like this on Halloween."

"Obviously not," she shrugged. "Can we go outside to talk?"

He frowned at all of the teenagers who were now shuffling in one large mass to exit the building. People had already made their escapes back to town by now which made it rather pointless to keep the rest of them inside to collect identification. He sighed, "Alright. Here, follow me."

The night air had chilled down to where her breath could be seen in clouds of steam. She crossed her arms and rubbed her biceps to feel some warmth from the loss of sweating heat. David quickly shrugged off his jacket to rest it over her shoulders. He too folded his arms with an exhaustible look of disappointment. "Elizabeth, what were you doing here tonight... and in those clothes?" He raised his brow with a disturbed grimace. "What happened to your pirate costume?"

"I stuffed it in a pillowcase and threw it in the bushes outside my house," she answered flatly. "Please don't arrest these people. I was there at the party long enough to know that no one got hurt or sick. There was no harm done, I swear."

"No harm done? Lizzie, you were defacing private property. That's not to mention that all of you are underage."

"I can get them to come clean it up, all of it. You could even have James get his friends to clean up downtown. Just let them go home now. Don't call any parents." She hesitated, "The party is over now and people aren't going to stay on the streets. There's nowhere else to go so they'll have to clear out back to their houses. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Despite having to endure the wrench of her grandfather's intolerant frown, Elizabeth knew that she struck his soft spot. Calling everyone's parents would take far too long. Halloween was still happening downtown and David needed as many officers there as possible.

"Alright," he consented. "As long as they all agree to go home, I'll let this go until the morning. You," he nodded back to his squad car, "are due for going home yourself. What did your father tell you, one thirty?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and trudged after David to the squad car that was parked in the lot a short ways down the docks. She found that James was already sitting in the back seat. His firefighter costume was disheveled and backwards as his black shaggy hair was flatted fully to his right side. His body was slouched down against the cracked leather backrest as his head was held up just barely above the helmet that rested on his lap.

The squad car opened to waft out the smell of stale beer and sickness. Elizabeth winced and slid into the back to join the boy. "You okay?" she chuckled at James's evident despair.

"He'll be alright come morning," David assured. He gripped the open car door and looked down at the two of them. His other hand rested over the hoister attached to his belt. "It'll just be a few minutes before this clears out. Elizabeth, can you stay in here and keep an eye on him, just to be sure that he stays up right?"

"Yeah," she smiled weakly. "Thanks for not making this into a big deal."

"Don't thank me yet. There's someone else who will ultimately need to make the final call on this." She furrowed her brow in confusion, though her look went unrequited as David closed the door to depart back down the marina.

She pressed her forehead against the cold glass to watch her peers disappear down the docks. Some walked hand-in-hand while others stumbled to find balance through the alcohol-induced blur in their comprehension. Maddie, the red-cheeked giggly drunk that she was, clutched onto Felix's arm as he led her through the crowd. Felix had confiscated the cloak that Elizabeth had given to another lost boy to drape it over Maddie's shoulders as a second layer to the cold. Elizabeth smiled silently to herself. She felt a twinge of despair to not have Peter at her side, while everyone else remained free to continue on with their lovers to take on the rest of the night. Her fingers rubbed together to sate the itch for the feel of his.

"Emma?" James squinted at Lizzie through his shaggy hair.

"No, but nice try," she giggled. Her forehead had stuck to the pane, causing a soft _pop_ when she pulled back to scooch closer to him. Elizabeth reached for his shoulder to help him sit up straight. She brushed the stray strands back off his face, "Just your silly little niece."

"Lizzie?" He stared at the passenger seat head rest in front of him. "Don't call yourself a niece. That sounds weird... you're a cousin."

"Yeah okay," she smiled affectionately. "Are you feeling sick? Will you be alright here until David gets back?"

"David," he repeated in a mumble. "My Dad didn't put me here. Emma did."

Her heart dropped at his exclamation, hoping to God that it was just the alcohol talking. "My Mom's here?"

James merely nodded. His eyelids drooped before he dropped his head back into his palms. "My Dad's gonna kill me."

As it turned out, they were led into Emma's squad car rather than David's. Unfortunately Elizabeth made the realization too late as her mother was making her way back to the car with David walking at her side. Elizabeth slouched under the hard glare that Emma shot at her daughter through the glass pane.

James and Elizabeth remained silent when the two parents climbed in the front. Emma got into the driver's side directly in front of where Elizabeth sat. The girl did not dare let her eyes stray up into the rearview mirror for the fear that she would catch an admonishing glare.

Not a word was spoken when the car engine revved to life. David silently switched off the radio and the siren lights overhead, letting the uneasy darkness engulf the car to put some visual barrier between the front seats and the back.

The orange glow of streetlights passed over the car during their drive. Elizabeth glanced up at David to judge his temperament as his features were momentarily alighted out from the night darkness. He wasn't as angry as she would have guessed, which was a good first sign - disappointed, no doubt, but not angry.

Emma was normally never this silent when it came to reprimanding her daughter. They were usually very good with talking problems out; it was what Elizabeth felt comfortable handling. She couldn't bear this uneasy silence between them even if she knew that provoking her mother would lead to the inevitable punishment.

_She could endure anything but this._

"Mom?" Elizabeth broke the quiet tension. "I'm sorry I lied to Dad. I..."

"We're not talking about this right now." Emma parked the car to the side, in front of her and Elizabeth's house. "Just go inside. Let your father know so he has some time to cool off before I get home later."

Elizabeth flinched, "I really am sorry..."

David frowned at the exchange between Elizabeth and Emma, unsure of who he felt sorrier for at the moment. After turning the keys in the slot to quiet the engine, Emma turned to finally face her guilt-ridden daughter. "We'll talk about this later. Right now I just need to get James home before he gets sick. I texted your Dad to tell him that your other Halloween outfit was left in the bushes outside."

Elizabeth nodded. She blinked up at her mother with a thousand anxieties suddenly flooding through her mind.

"Wait." Elizabeth's gaze darted from their front door down to her lap where Peter's grey trousers were alit beneath the overhead street lamp. "So you already told him whose clothes I'm wearing?"

Emma smirked and shook her head. "I left that part out. It'll give you too enough to talk about before I get home, I'm sure."

Elizabeth gawked at her mother in horror. "You expect me to just walk in there to talk to Dad dressed like this?"

"Seeing as it is now two minutes past your curfew, we wouldn't want to keep your father waiting any longer." For the first time in the night, Emma seemed more amused than irritated. Elizabeth stared wide-eyed at her mother, now all of a sudden overcome with the sheer terror of what surely awaited her behind that front door.


	5. Queen of Neverland

**Requested Prompt: "Could you a reverse au where Elizabeth Swan is the Queen of Neverland and Peter is the love child of CS or something else?"**

**Rating: K+**

The tip of his nose itched under the roughly woven stack pulled over his head. He was being dragged - where to, he did not know. He stumbled over roots and rocks as the path meandered deeper, further away from the shore where the Roger was anchored. Hands clutched onto his arms. The Lost Girls were behind him ready to give the occasional push.

"Where are you taking me?" He tried to speak up, though the sack hindered his ability to be heard.

The girls hollered noises up ahead. They continued moving. Very soon he began to hear drum beats and laughter. He could smell smoke and roasting meat. The grips on his arms tightened to ensure he would not run.

"No, stop!" He tried to pull back, but it was to no avail. The girls had him, and very soon, they tripped him.

Upon his ungraceful fall down into the dirt, the end of the bag was grabbed to invite the cool midnight air to chill his sweating pores. Peter gasped. He kept his head bowed low down to the dirt. His fingers dug into the soil. Charcoaled sticks littered the area where the nearby campfire crackled.

"Well?"

A feminine articulate voice spoke up, causing all others to quieten. Her tone was as light as air, unlike the other voices around him, which he perceived with a heavy savagery.

Reluctantly, Peter lifted his head up first to the two dark leather boots standing before him in the mud. Aged and scuffed from use, cracks ran up the laced leather shoes up where they ended at her knees. The girls frame was lean and slim; that much he could discern through her grey fitted pants that hugged her hips. She had a forest green shirt tucked in at her belt, which to some degree, resembled the metalwork of the buckle that his father used to wear, back when he was a pirate on the seas.

Long blonde tresses fell over the dark fabric. Her arms were crossed, exposing the two leather cuffs wrapped over her wrists.

Her eyes, however, were what truly captured his attention. They were gripping. Against the light from the fire, two pools of dark ocean sparkled from the flickering fire. A line of darkness traced under her lashes. She was menacing; horrifying; striking; beautiful.

Peter parted his lips to speak, though felt the words dry along the roof his mouth. "I…"

She raised her eyebrow mockingly. "You, what?" The girls around him giggled. The leader smirked and then turned to the tall female warden who stood beside him. "Goodness, Felicia. What have you brought us?"

He felt a spread of warmth over his cheeks where he suspected he was blushing. His jaw flexed, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I'm only teasing you," the girl laughed. "It's not every day that we see a _boy _on the island." Her smile widened to reveal two rows of impossibly perfect teeth - white, straight, and striking with contrasting the subtle dusting of dirt along her chin. "But really, where are my manners? My name is Elizabeth, Elizabeth Swan. Though here on this island, I go by Lizzie."

Peter gawked at her, finally now assigning the infamous name to her captivating face. _She might look like a young girl, but she is a bloody siren. _The words of his father echoed in his mind. Stories of bloodshed, capture, torture, and hunts returned now - the stories he had been told by his father and also his step brother Henry from the storybook.

"So tell me, did dear Captain Hook give you a name, or should I give you one myself?"

"Peter," he answered. "Peter Pan."

She smiled, revealing a budding interest in her new guest. "Welcome to Neverland, Peter."


	6. Cursed

**Requested Prompt: "I would love to see a prompt of Lizzie somehow getting the "Storeybrooke Curse" and get a different personality. Either a really prissy and fussy girl, or a wild child through and through. While Pan has fun with her at first he eventually wants his Lizzie back! Thanks for taking the time to read this!"**

**Rating: T**

* * *

The tombstone cracked open and magically shifted to the side, revealing the stony passageway beneath. Felix took his hand off the dusted vase and walked back over to where Elizabeth stood. Her arms were crossed as she gave him a vacant smile. The large black hooded sweatshirt effectively covered her body underneath, so much so that even her hands were hidden in the oversized sleeves. She had tucked her blonde hair back into the hood to prevent the distinctive color from showing. Felix sported a similar getup of dark clothing, though in his mind, it did little more than emphasize the point that they were grave robbers.

The two of them watched as the entrance to Regina's vault slowly unveiled itself.

"Easy enough so far," Lizzie remarked. The charcoaled tips of the torches in the stairwell alit with flame. Ushered by the invitation of warmth, she went down first. Careful not to slip on the damp stone steps, Lizzie gripped the railing and took her time proceeding forwards. "Remind me again why Peter didn't come down here himself."

"He figured this would pose less of a risk to you than the Evil Queen's basement," Felix answered, condescendingly.

"You must be joking. The Evil Queen's basement?"

"I don't joke." With a light push on her shoulder, Felix kept the two of them moving until they reached the bottom of the stairwell. "Pan is convinced that the Regina has the vial, and knowing how she operates, there are only a certain few places she would entrust to keep it hidden."

"If Peter is caught raiding mayor's basement…"

Felix pulled his female counterpart around. He raised his single index finger to her lips. His smug amusement was just barely discernable by the twisted corner of his mouth. "Pan won't have any problems, he never does. It's yourself that you should be worried about."

Lizzie rolled her eyes beneath the shadow of her hood and shrugged his grasp off her shoulder. As much as she would have liked to put blind faith in Peter having the best intentions, she knew that would just be foolish.

The two of them turned back into the central channel of the chamber where most of the goods were stored inside crates. The right wall was made up by hundreds of small box drawers that each glowed red with a steady rhythm of multiple heartbeats. A few drawers were left unused and empty with blackness.

Further back, the vault bore shelves upon shelves that were filled with an assortment of glowing potions and enchantments, all of which Elizabeth observed from a cautious distance. A thick layer of dust had settled over the curved glass vials. She glanced back at Felix. "There's no way my Mom knows about all this. Regina was supposed to get rid of these potions years ago."

"Don't ask, don't tell." He muttered as he walked to the most crowded display case. "Even the Savior knows better than to expect a woman like Regina to give away all her goodies. Once you have a taste of magic, there's no going back." Elizabeth watched Felix as he began to rummage through shelves, moving the individual vials out of their original place to show rings of wood where the dust had not settled. Every bottle was shaped differently. They were brewed concoctions that glowed all different vibrant shades of reds, blues, greens, yellows, and purples.

"It's not here," Elizabeth muttered. "You should have told Peter that this would be a waste. It's too obvious to keep it down here with everything else."

Felix didn't answer her. He kept searching and shuffling through the labels on each potion. Left unrequited, Elizabeth crossed her arms in impatience. "Come on, Felix. The pixie dust isn't here. There's nothing here."

"Not nothing." He smirked wide enough to wrinkle his eye scar. "Do you see that bottle at the far top, glowing blue with lines of green?" There, left perched close to the edge of the top shelf, Elizabeth took note of the curious bottle. "It's the Vial of Youth," Felix smirked. "Rumored to contain the perfected amount of pixie dust and other enchantments – it's bottled immortality. Imagine what Pan would say to that."

"He doesn't need it," she said. "This isn't Neverland, Felix. There's no use living forever in a world where everyone dies around you."

"A couple months you've spent as his play thing, a distraction, and you think you know his best interests better than I do?" Lizzie's eyes widened from the sting of his words. Felix advanced a step closer. "I've been with Pan longer than your mother and father have been breathing. I know him better than anyone else in this or any other world. He has so much in store for this town, so much _revenge_ to enact on the adults who have been holding him back for so long. You – the Sheriff's daughter, the light of the Captain's eye – how could he resist the temptation to indulge in what Hook tries so desperately to protect? You're a subplot: a side game.."

He turned from her, satisfied with his blows, and reached upwards for the vial. Elizabeth felt an uneasiness turn in her gut – a suspicion that something wasn't quite right – leading her eyes to stray down to the ground in search of any tripwire.

"Felix, wait." Her warning came a second too late, as the boy's last step extended far enough to trip the camouflaged string that blended into the sandstone floor. The booby-trap set off. All of the candles blew out at once, leaving just a sliver of moonlight that seeped in through the open vault entrance. Particles of dust fluttered down from the grinding of rock against rock as the tombstone began to reseal shut. Elizabeth grabbed Felix's wrist and pulled him back. "We need to leave!"

He ripped himself from her grasp and turned back to the shelves. Despite Elizabeth's protest, Felix reached out to the shadowed shelves filled with glowing vials of potions and grabbed the Vial of Youth. In his haste, the boy knocked a large glass flask onto the smooth stone floor. The containments glowed a rich violet aura which sparkled with speckles of twilight. The glass vial shattered and eliciting a thick purple smog that quickly began to fill the underground chamber.

"The exit's closing!" Elizabeth shouted as she ran towards the staircase. The lost boy caught up to her and pushed her aside. He scrambled up the steps. The vault had but a few feet left of open space left. The stone scraped as it continued to close.

Felix stomped up as fast as he could, with Elizabeth following closely at his heels. The cursed purple cloud continued to fill the vault behind them.

The liquid remnants of the potion smeared off from Felix's wet boots and coated the stone steps. The silver light from the sky was diminishing. He ran faster. Unable to exercise caution, Elizabeth slipped on the wetness of the stone step and lost her footing.

Felix vaguely heard her choked cry just as he lunged forward to pull himself out.

He turned back to look for her through the purple clouds. He could just make out the shine of her golden hair exposed from the hood that had fallen back. She was lying in the deep depths of the darkening pit. A rich glistening of red shined in the cracks of her fingers where she cupped her nose. Felix felt his stomach drop as the haze of purple blanketed over her. The stone tombstone sealed the last few inches just before the smoke reached his fingertips.

Outside the walls of the crypt, Felix could already hear the police sirens.

* * *

_Two Days Later_

It had been days since the accident, though for Emma it felt like weeks.

She never liked hospitals. Even in Storybrooke – where the emergency unit was nowhere near the size of Boston, New York or Arizona – it still felt as if all eyes were on her. The chaotic rhythm of murmuring and beeping and closing doors and squeaking wheels that rolled in and out of the care unit hyped her nerves. She cracked open the window over her daughter's bed, though it did little to diffuse the smell of latex and Purell.

The winter-grey afternoon light seemed to make Elizabeth appear even more pale than she had already become. Scant traces of bruising still colored over her nose where the bone was once broken. Grey rings circled under her closed eyelashes and contrasted her otherwise pale white complexion.

Emma still remembered getting the call from Regina that there was a break-in at the vault which, until recently, had been long forgotten. The scene had been replaying in her head continuously. She remembered the headlights of the police cruiser silhouetting Peter's far away body as he stood on the stairs to the vault besides the former Evil Queen. Emma remembered the exhaustive effort of magic that was needed to unseal the spell on the tombstone. She remembered hearing the sounds of David's truck halt to a stop over the funeral road gravel, proceeded by the slam of doors and Killian's anxious shouts. She remembered finding her daughter – unconscious, crumpled and bloodied – lying at the foot of the stairwell.

Emma reached down to gently tuck a stray lock of her daughter's golden hair back from her face. Voices echoed behind her. They were familiar sounds, belonging to family members that she had seen too much of in the past forty-eight hours.

"Give Emma another day, Regina. She's not ready to leave her yet." David sounded exhausted.

"The town of Storybrooke can't be asked to function without a working sheriff." Regina, not so much. "Having a delinquent daughter is no excuse for taking a week off from work."

"I'll handle it," David interjected. "Let me take over for now." Emma finally turned back around to see the two conversing outside the room door. The large coffee David held and the redness of his eyes confirmed her suspicions. "Emma will name me acting sheriff until all this is figured out."

Regina paused. She glared at him flatly, "You'd better figure this out. Those two had a reason for breaking into my vault, and I would like to know why." The tension lasted what felt like a lifetime before she stepped back. Though he seemed weak from sleep deprivation, David still held his ground. "And I still expect full compensation for the damages done."

Emma listened for the quiet click of the door closing after Regina finally departed. She had not realized that she was gripping the cold metal bars of her daughter's bed until a soft hand rested over her white knuckles. Her eyes snapped up to her mother, Snow, who bore the sincerest of frowns. "Emma," she began softly. "You have to sleep."

Emma swallowed a dry lump and glanced down to her daughter. "She might wake up."

"You and Killian have been here for too long. The doctors said that it might be awhile before anything happens. You need to sleep."

"Saviors don't sleep. Not when this kind of thing happens."

* * *

The Styrofoam coffee cup cooled in Killian's hand. He sat in the waiting room chairs opposite from Peter, who had remained still and slouched back in his chair. Killian's eyes darted up and down from his coffee to the lost boy. He waited for Pan to speak, to say anything self-incriminating that allow Killian the opportunity to take the blame off himself.

_He should have been stricter with her, with Elizabeth_.

Much to the pirate's dismay, Peter had not said a word since his late arrival to the hospital. He did not inquire of Elizabeth's condition; he did not confront Emma or Regina for answers; he did not bother to ask if he could see her. He just went straight to the chairs in the far corner of the waiting room. He sat there silently with cold, brooding stare fixed at the far wall. His eyes were mindlessly fixed at nothing.

Killian spoke up, "If you had a shred of honor, you would not have let her go down there." He sounded more tired than he anticipated. "She has tried to convince us that you were changed. Often and over, she's vouched for the good that you keep hidden from the rest of us; the good only she has seen." Killian shifted up in his seat. "Tell me boy, where was that _good_ last night when you sent her into that vault?"

Peter did not budge. His eyes were red with apparent soreness and exhaustion, though they nevertheless unrelentingly wide. His chin flexed, though the words dried silent on his tongue.

Dr. Whale stepped through the heavy ER Unit doors gripping his clipboard. He hesitated when noticing the air of hostility before turning to face Killian. "You'd best come back in. She's waking up."

Peter wordlessly followed the Captain through the double doors and down the sterile hallway. Crowds of monotonous blue scrubs whirled past the doctor, back and forth out of the curtains dividing the emergency patients into their own subunits. It was because of these fast-flyer resident interns that Killian followed Whale so carefully. He was unaware that Peter towed at his steps.

Elizabeth studied the faces as they entered the room. Killian expected to see her smile, naturally, as she always did whenever he greeted her. He anticipated the crinkle of delight at the corners of her glistening eyes. Disappointment then came when his daughter's eyes sharpened on Whale, who had yet to take his eyes off the details written on his clipboard.

"Miss Swan," Whale murmured down at the papers. "You've been out for quite some time. How are you feeling?"

"How am I feeling?" She sneered. Her hand ripped out from Emma's grasp to grip the metal handrails lining her bed. "Look at my nose!" Her voice shrilled with disgust. "How do you think I'm feeling? It's hideous! You mean to tell me that during all the time I've spent lying unconscious, there wasn't one doctor in this entire hospital competent enough to bring down the swelling!?"

Wide-eyed, Killian looked at Emma. She too was at a loss for words. The doctor choked on his practiced medical jargon before Lizzie shifted up in her bed. Despite the purple swelling along the bridge of her nose, the sheet white paleness of her skin, the chapping of her lips, and knotting in the back of her unruly blond curls, it was her anger which made her unrecognizable. Her eyes glared knives that forced even Peter a step back into the doorway.

"You've overreached yourself, doctor, if you think for one second that I'd leave this hospital looking like this."

"Hey," Emma protested. "Come on, take it easy. Dr. Whale's been doing a lot these past few days to keep you in good shape."

Lizzie scoffed in distaste. "Do you call this 'good shape'?" She glared back at the doctor. "He leaves me in this such a state, offers no apology, and then comes in with some intern who isn't even dressed for his work."

"Intern?" Emma questioned up at Whale, who turned back to Killian, who both then turned to find Peter standing in the doorway, wearing the same button down shirts and slacks that he had been wearing the last three days since the night of the fall. The group fell silent. Killian stepped back from Peter. His eyes shifted back and forth from his daughter to the bewildered lost boy.

"There are no interns on your case," Dr. Whale answered.

"Who do you call that, then?" She nodded at Peter. "If you cannot take this case seriously enough to take on assistants who are unable to dress appropriately, then I will demand a doctor who will."

"Lizzie?" Emma began slowly, "Do you recognize him, the boy standing there in the doorway?"

"Of course not."

Peter found her words to be not nearly as bitter as the look she gave him: the lack of recognition, the snooty disgust. He felt his knees lock. The silence in the room prolonged as the two stared at each other.

* * *

"It would appear that your daughter is cursed." Rumplestiltskin shifted his weight with his cane. He stood outside Elizabeth's hospital room in the hallway of the ER unit with Regina and Emma. His eyes swept across the congested hospital hallway, disgusted. It was clear from his pressed suit that Rumple had come straight from work at the request of the Mayor. "The curse that was used on Belle all those years ago, the one that made her Lacey for some time, seems to be the cause of it."

"You were supposed to get rid of that _years ago_," Emma snarled at Regina.

"Do not raise your voice at me, Emma." Regina raised her palms in defense. "There is only one way to get into my vault. Regardless of what is down there, it was secured for a reason and your daughter still took it upon herself to trespass."

"Is this bickering really all that necessary?" Rumple interrupted. "It happened. There's no use arguing over who's to blame. All that's left to do now is undo the effects that have been done on Elizabeth."

"Can you fix it?" Emma asked. "The recipe for whatever remedy you used to bring Belle back must still be around."

Killian joined the group to stand beside her. He had remained unusually quiet since his estranged meeting with his daughter. He gently rubbed his palm along Emma's back, knowing of no other way to try to soothe her.

"If I were to agree to help you, it will require a lot of digging and a lot of time." The end of Rumple's smile twitched. "I've got plenty of spellbooks lying around my shop which haven't been used in many years. Who's to say I still have what you seek?"

"I know you do," Emma said. "You're the only one who can."

"I can, probably. But this now poses the question, what's in it for me?" He gritted a smile.

Killian narrowed his eyes. "What could you possibly ask of us that you do not already have?"

"No" Emma said with firm resolve, already able to read his intention without it having to be said aloud. "The whole point of forbidding dark magic was to avoid this exact situation from happening to our kids and that's not changing because of some misplaced sense of payment you try to lay on us. After everything you've put us through - before and after Elizabeth was born - you have no right to ask anything of us. In fact," - she took another step forward, eyes widening, arms crossed - "You are going to do this for us at no cost. You are going to help us because you owe this much to us and I am sick and tired of you thinking that you're above the law."

The group had fallen silent. Rumple did not appear phased by Emma's assault; on the contrary, he seemed rather amused. "Fair enough, sheriff. Consider this favor as my repentance to you. You can expect a cure for your daughter by the end of the week."

Killian looked at Emma, then back at Rumple. "What then do you propose we do for our daughter in the meantime? We can't very well bring her back home and go on like nothing has changed."

"Who better to reintroduce her to herself than her parents?" Rumple proposed dryly. "Perhaps after some time of returning back to normality, the effects of the curse might wear off and she'll come to her senses."

"Call me a pessimist but that does not seem likely," Killian grumbled. "We've had our fair share of curses and none have been quite that catering to break."

Emma took Killian's hand and offered him a nervous smile. "I'd rather her just come home. Even if she's not herself, I want her to be close to us. We can handle our cursed daughter for a few days."

Conflict brewed within the pirate, though he knew it was futile to argue. He looked back through the window into his daughter's hospital room where Elizabeth sat up in her bed, glaring into a hand mirror while fussing with her hair. Killian bowed his head. With a low mutter, he gave his reluctant consent.

* * *

Peter stepped through the automatic doors of Storybrooke hospital already with his phone in hand. He opened the text message group containing all of his Lost Boys – the old and the new – and called for a meeting.

Black ice coated the streets and sidewalks, though he paid it little worry. Steam clouded from every breath he took as he made his way down Main Street. He moved faster than usual. With his hands jammed back deep in his pockets, Peter buried his nose and mouth under the ragged collar of his chestnut brown field jacket. His eyes were fixed on the pavement ahead – his thoughts were going everywhere, all at once. The look of disgust plastered over Elizabeth's face remained forefront in his mind and he did not yet know how to feel about it. She hadn't given him a hateful glare like that since the first day he arrived to Storybrooke fresh out of Neverland, back when all people had to judge him were the stories Henry and his family brought back some twenty years earlier.

He thought again to the remark that Killian made to him in the waiting room: _where was that good last night when you sent her into that vault?_ The last few days had been such a blank for his thoughts, he still hadn't given the nature of Elizabeth's expedition a thought in his mind.

He pulled out his phone again and texted Felix: "I expect a very long explanation from you."

Peter hadn't noticed just how fast he was walking until he arrived at the warehouse on the far side of town. The boys had already arrived and were congregated in a large circle near the front doors. Felix was sitting on one of the wooden crates pushed against the wall, isolated a short distance away.

Peter forced a grin. "Boys."

They quieted. Chubs, one of the new recruits, stepped forward. "Is Lizzie going to be okay?"

Taken back by the concern in the small boy's eyes, Peter blinked and cocked his brow. Chubs took the hint and stepped back. He scanned the faces of each one before he came to Felix's at the end. The boy's face was bowed low enough for his hood to cast a shadow over his features.

"How nice you to show up," Peter said. He smiled as Felix's jaw flexed. The boy's shoulders rolled back, and his knuckles gripped the corners of the box just a bit tighter; Felix knew he was in trouble.

"What's the matter? Are we not feeling friendly today?" Still, the masquerade of amusement kept Peter grinning ear-to-ear. "Come now, Felix. After all your adventures in the past few days, surely you have at least one tale to offer us." He hands were in his jean pockets. His head leaned to the side, seemingly playful, though Felix knew better.

The lost boy slid off the ledge of the box to stand on both feet. At first Felix did not seem phased by the quizzical greeting. He swallowed and gathered the courage to look Peter in the eye. The inadvertent bobbing of his adam's apple betrayed him.

Felix grounded his teeth and paused before speaking. "I didn't know she would get hurt. I should have told you where we were going."

Peter's silence cast its weight between each word. He said nothing; he merely just continued to glare, waiting, chewing the lost boy out second by second. Felix swallowed, unsure of what else there was to say. With balled knuckles, he lowered his eyes.

Just as it seemed Felix was about to lose his collected self, Peter smiled. His eyes crinkled with delight. "No need to lose yourself over a small bit of miscommunication. We've all done worse, haven't we boys?" The group exchanged nervous glances and nods. "All that matters now is the great fun we're to have this week."

"Fun?" Felix frowned.

"That's right, Felix, _fun_ – fun with our dear Elizabeth." The lost boys perked their heads at the sound of her name. Peter began to walk casually through the group, as he continued to talk aloud to Felix. "As it happens, your careless and blatant disregard for my rules has caused Lizzie to come under a curse. She hasn't any clue who she is or better yet, who _I_ am to her. The effects of the curse are of course temporary, which is where you all come in."

Peter stopped, a look of great mischief lit his eyes. "We are going to reacquaint Elizabeth with some of our more cherished games."

* * *

_Three Days Later_

Peter was the first student in class to find his seat.

The morning was cold, dry and still dark with little to no sunrise to offer smiles to anyone in treading through the front doors of the school. Teachers lagged to their rooms with coffees in hand; memories of their beds, still warm from sleep, still preoccupied their minds in place of lesson plans. Students waited as long as possible before departing from their groups standing by their respective lockers. But that was no matter to Peter. He was determined to be the first to have the seat located behind her.

With Elizabeth's memory still gone, Henry made it easy for her by assigning her a desk for the time being. Of course, Peter took advantage of this.

The bell rang and students shuffled in. Adam walked in first - clean shaven and dressed in his nicest trousers to once again earn favor with the cursed Elizabeth. Peter knew what Adam was doing, though he would never give him the satisfaction of showing any remorse from it. With Elizabeth's new taste in style and mannerisms also came a new taste in men. If it had not have been for Henry's seat assignment, Elizabeth would no doubt be sitting as close as she could to Adam and as far away possible from Peter. He did his best to pay it little mind.

_She's cursed._

More students entered. Teenagers dragged their feet in and found the nearest desk to throw their bags over. Felix and two of his lost boys came in and found the nearest available seats behind the leader.

Peter did not turn to greet them as he normally would. He waited still with eyes fixed on the door until finally Elizabeth walked through.

She had been looking worse (in his opinion) everyday.

First it was her clothing. Today she was wearing a grey-striped cashmere sweater and charcoal capris pants. She had replaced her jeans and leather jacket for Mary Margaret's smaller-sized, prim and proper outfits that no longer fit the maternal school teacher. Her boots were swapped with polished nude flats, and her hair had been pinned up perfectly, until today.

This morning, her hair was styled down, straight, and glossy. Peter would have thought that it would be nice to see her wear her hair down again. It wasn't. Lizzie always used to let her hair down naturally - she wasn't fussy and didn't put up with the nonsense routines that other female students at school obviously went through each morning. She never applied too much makeup to make it noticeable. In fact, it was during the hour after lunch in the early afternoon when the sunlight best came in through the school window and bathed over her natural and clean complexion that Peter could never take his eyes off her. But now, it almost seemed worse to have her hair down. It in itself would have seemed closer to the original _Lizzie_ style had it not been for her snooty glare; her paleness; her coldness. She was barely recognizable.

Elizabeth walked down the aisle of chairs, looked up at Peter's expectant glare, then frowned. Not even a smile.

She turned and took her seat. Peter caught the gentle breeze carrying the mixed scent of some professional shampoo and worse, perfume. He did his best to keep himself from shriveling his nose publicly.

Felix tapped Peter's shoulder when his face had gone red from not breathing. The pencil between his fingers was near to breaking when the first crumpled paper flew at the back of Elizabeth's head. She turned back and glared at Felix. Her eyes were like ice.

Peter joined the others, boyishly chuckling as Henry entered the room and dropped his shoulder bag at the teacher's desk.

"Morning everyone," Henry announced. On that particular morning, Henry embodied the definition of the word "disheveled". His hair was still pressed to one side, there was a coffee smear on the white collar of his shirt, and his brown blazer was wrinkled. He pulled a stack of papers out from his bag and began walking and talking down the aisles of desks. "I've got some stuff to hand back." He began handing back papers to students, one-by-one. "Take a look at the grade but try not to dwell on it for too long. We have a lot of ground to cover if we're going to make it to the War of the Roses before lunch." Peter got back a whopping 54, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Elizabeth, on the other hand, sucked in an anxious breath when she received her 78.

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Mr. Mills?"

Henry did not turn back to look at her. "Yeah, Lizzie?"

"Elizabeth," she corrected with a polite smile. "Can you please explain this grade to me?"

Henry finally turned back around, frowning at his would-be sister. "We can talk after class."

"I don't get 78's. What was I doing when I took this exam?"

Peter leaned forward in his seat and grinned. "Do you _really _want him to answer that?"

The class erupted in laughter. Elizabeth dug her nails into the front of the desk before whipping around. "Leave me alone. If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it." She turned back around, sending yet another breeze of expensive chemical perfume to cause Peter to grimace. Felix tapped Peter's back in encouragement, though it hardly went felt.

Hours ticked on like days and every minute that he spent sitting in silence was another minute spent listening and watching her. Nothing was the same as before. Nothing was getting better. She ticked her tongue against her pearly teeth and kept up with her note taking as he sat behind her brooding.

Henry began to review the terminology faster than usual. He spoke more quickly than he wrote and had to pause every so often to allow the class to catch up. Pencils and pens were scribbling furiously from the left side of the room to the right. Even Adam, who usually kept his erect posture under check, had to drop his fountain pen to flex his cramping wrist. The only respite for the class came whenever Henry felt obligated to stop and cast Peter a disapproving glare after hearing the lost boys snickering.

Elizabeth burned words onto the page fast, though she hardly broke a sweat. Her left index finger twisted a front lock of hair. Peter couldn't focus on anything but that one golden lock. She blindly twisted and rolled the smooth strands through her fingers as she continued to scribble notes. Peter sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

A boyish longing came over him do tug on a loose end of her shining locks and her demand attention. She had yet to even look at him. All of his petty jabs meant to get under her skin went unnoticed and he was losing his patience. He was yearning for her - anything - just to see those blue eyes spark in his direction, regardless if they were cold with hatred.

He finally succumbed to the temptations and lifted the butt edge of his pencil eraser. Slowly, he inched the soft pink nub closer to the back of her head until he skimmed a particularly blonde strand of hair. He could hear the boys sitting behind him grow quiet - clearly they were watching him.

Elizabeth slammed her pen down suddenly and turned. "Stop it! Stop talking! Stop touching! Stop fidgeting! Just stop it!"

Everyone was watching now. Henry paused, with his arm still extended midair and mid-sentence. After a moment's pause, all of the lost boys erupted with fits of laughter and mocking noises meant only to fuel her aggravation further. This time, however, Peter did not join in.

He gawked at her, shocked, as he realized that there was truly nothing _Lizzie_ about her left. The person talking was so far from the Lizzie he was trying to coerce out, he realized then that all efforts to break her out of that cursed shell were futile.

"Pan," Henry ushered Peter to join him outside the classroom.

He deliberated, still engrossed with the hard glare of _Miss Elizabeth Swan_, until Henry called for him to leave a second time around. Peter stood up abruptly, knocking the pens and loose papers off from his desk, before storming out. His lost boys hushed then, realizing that this was no longer part of the game.

The hallways were empty. Peter slammed the classroom door behind him, sending a thunderous _boom_ to echo all throughout the school.

"That wasn't necessary," Henry frowned. "I can't let you get away with all that you're doing in there. As the teacher, I have responsibilities-"

"Oh, don't you start with patronizing _me_," Peter growled. "You of all people should know better than that."

"Don't threaten me, Pan. It's been eighteen years since Neverland. I'm not twelve anymore."

Peter paused with a loss for words. Henry sighed, "I realize that this can't be easy for you. It hasn't exactly been a cakewalk for my Mom and Killian either. Lizzie's going to get there, we just have to give her time. You can't keep harassing and teasing her. Curses don't break that way."

"And what if that never happens?"

"Then we'll just have to have faith in Gold."

Peter winced. "What's Rumple got to do with this?"

"He promised that he'd look for the cure. It's been years, but I'm sure he has it somewhere in his shop."

Peter took a moment to digest those final words. Recognition dawned on his face. All traces of fury and distress eased, and were replaced with new resolve. His fists unclenched. His breathing evened. He looked at Henry with newfound resolve. "Your family's faith in the Dark One is misplaced. There is nothing that Rumple wouldn't do to get back at me for all that's happened between us before Storybrooke. He won't help Lizzie, not willingly."

"I think you need to…" Before Henry had the opportunity to even say the words _calm down_, Peter turned away. The first object to collide with his fist was the red-painted locker, which echoed as the bones of Peter's hand cracked from impact. He didn't flinch, nor did he show any indication of discomfort or noticing the break. The Lost Boy ignored Henry's calling after him as he stormed off. The brutish-looking hall officer observing the confrontation from across the hall paused and seemingly made the conscious decision to not be the next victim to Peter's fist as the lost boy exited school.

* * *

Killian came home from work that evening to find Lizzie sitting in the dining room with her agenda book laid out on the polished wood surface. Her posture in the oak wood chair was poised and pristine. Keeping one hand rested gracefully over her lap, Elizabeth used the other to jot notes down on her upcoming schedule. Upon first glance, Killian noticed the variety of neon colors - light blue, electric green, strident orange, and the worst, a most horrid striking pink shade. He had an urge to chuckle. She would regret this later, especially the pink.

She had changed out of her earlier school day attire into a periwinkle knit sweater and iron-pressed white pants. Her ears still fashioned the same pearl studs that glistened under the ceiling light. He had not seen her wear earrings since her middle-school dance.

"Are you hungry?" Killian interjected over the sound of her scribbles.

Elizabeth straightened up and turned. She placed the golden fountain pen - a gift she had received from Adam - down into the center binding between the pages. She smiled politely, "Just a little."

"The kitchen was looking rather bare, so your mother went out to refill our store of meals. I've ordered some pizza - that should be here soon."

Twenty minutes and a soggy paper plate later, Elizabeth raised her nose to the slice of Hawaiian pizza and reached for her fork. With a curled lip she began dissecting her food and removing each generous chunk of pineapple and ham that had been wedged in the cheese.

Killian sat across from her at the table with his own untouched slice and utter disappointment. "I'm sorry, I should have asked before ordering for you." He frowned as he watched his daughter dissect her food. "It's just that Hawaiian has always been your favorite."

"It's not a problem, really." Elizabeth said unconvincingly, "I'm just in the mood for something a little more, traditional." After picking up her ragged slice of holed plain mozzarella, she nibbled the end.

The front door opened then much to Killian's relief. Emma hurried through with both arms lugging groceries. Her sheriff badge was still fastened over her hip.

"Hey guys," she huffed with a smile. Killian hopped off the stool and strode across the room to accept a few of the brown paper bags. Before Emma could make it to the kitchen counter, she caught sight of Lizzie sitting erect in her chair. Her daughter gave a modest smile before turning back down to the sad excuse of her dinner.

She heard her parents exchange a short few remarks in the kitchen before her father joined her at the table. He nodded down to the agenda book with a new reinvigorated sense of interest. "Do you have many plans for the week, then?"

"Not enough actually," she frowned. "Asides from some extra assignments Henry allowed me to pick up, I have nothing. _There's nothing to do_." She rapped the pen against the edge of the table. "Why haven't I signed up for more activities, more groups to be apart of? How did I fill my time?"

"You managed to keep busy..." Killian paused in discomfort.

"I kept busy with him, with Peter," she added.

He nodded, "Aye. You were close with him."

"I can't imagine why. I spent the entire day with him in school and all he did was act out. He picked on me all day today." She declared. "He's a delinquent... a sorry excuse of a criminal."

The acidity in her tone was unrecognizable. Killian glowered and sat still in silence as she returned to picking through her shredded slice of pizza. He thought that there would be no better feeling than hearing his daughter dismiss Pan. Nothing in the world would better put his mind to ease than hear Elizabeth deny any feelings for the boy. Now, he wasn't too sure.

The longer he stared idly from across the table, the worst he felt. This wasn't his daughter talking; it was the curse.

"I'm going over to Adam's house tonight. I need some refreshing of what we've covered so far in our geographic curriculum, considering I have no notes thus far and the test is next week." She shut her agenda book. "If it is no trouble to you, I would be most grateful for a drive over there."

"I'll take you," Emma nodded. "But I don't want you out too late. We're supposed to get snow tonight and the roads aren't going to get plowed until Leroy gets the truck repaired tomorrow morning."

Elizabeth stood up, careful when pulling out the dining room chair. "Thank you again for dinner." She smiled at her father before collecting her books and heading upstairs to her room.

* * *

Adam could feel her inching closer. Every fifteen minutes that ticked by was another fidget in Elizabeth's chair towards the corner of the mahogany table barely keeping them separate. He was beginning to feel self-aware of the little details; his aftershave, his birthmark behind his ear, the beads of sweat forming at his hairline, the awkward angle of his most recent haircut, the tightness of his clothes' fit across his midsection. _Did she notice any of it? _

The pungent aroma of Chanel No. 5 wafted off her skin and through the glossy blonde curls strategically draped over her chest. His office lamp cast a glow over her skin and fuzz of her white sweater. Her eyes darted up from her notes to catch him staring. She smiled.

"Can I ask you something?"

He blinked. "Anything."

"What exactly is Peter Pan's problem? If we were supposed to be friends beforehand, why would he harass me like he has this week?"

"Do you want me to speak truthfully?"

She nodded.

"Peter came to Storybrooke when we were fourteen and just entering high school. I'm not sure who out of the two of you got under the other's skin first, but it happened. There wasn't a day when it became official, when you two became an _item_ \- it just sort of happened, and then after that, it was undoable. I wasn't happy about it then, and I can't say that I've been happy about it since."

"Why didn't you approve?"

Adam cleared his throat and pulled his gaze away from her, down to his lap. "I have always just thought that you deserved better - someone who will acknowledge you, appreciate you, give you affection, support, and thought throughout the day. You deserve that all the time, and not just behind closed doors."

Elizabeth smiled. Her hand ghosted over his sweating palm, which sent chills up his back. He took a breath before looking back up at her. "I'm beginning to think that studying will take more than just an hour. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee or something before we keep going?"

"Tea would be nice," she replied sweetly. "No milk, just a hint of honey."

Adam nodded abruptly.

Elizabeth watched him with a coy, calculative grin while he fumbled to push out his chair and stand. He turned back to her. "I'll be right back."

He strided downstairs and into the backroom of his father's pawn shop. The space was cluttered with discarded merchandise that had yet to be displayed in the showroom. Careful not to knock anything out of place, Adam tiptoed over the black floorboards towards the only modern device that his father permitted in the shop: the Keurig.

His fingers ghosted over the k-cup descriptions until he found the selection of breakfast teas.

The jingle from the pawn shop door was followed by a violent _slam_. Adam fumbled the two cups of tea he was holding. He heard the tap of his father's fountain pen being placed down onto the glass countertop, slow and calculated. Adam froze. He was not sure whether his father had heard him come downstairs and into the back room.

Regardless, Adam was keen on listening. By the sounds that he could make out, it was just his father and the one guest.

"I don't know why I bother funding that school system here if it can't even teach its students the definition of the word, _closed_." Adam heard the disdain in his father's evened tone.

"Don't you start with me," Peter Pan answered. Adam could hear footsteps stride towards the back of the store where he knew his father would be standing behind the register. "You have what I need – you've had it all along. Hand it over."

"You'll have to be a bit more specific than that." Gold responded dryly. "I've got plenty of _its_ in this shop that I'm sure you'd love to get your hands on."

"I'm not playing a game with you, Rumple. The potion you used to revive Belle all those years ago – I know it's here in the shop. Give it to me."

Gold gave a hearty chuckle. "Now, why in the world would I ever consider doing you any favors? Elizabeth seems perfectly content at the current moment. I don't see a need to change that."

Adam felt the hairs on his neck raise.

"Do not speak for her," Peter said.

"Are you trying frighten me? Because if you are, you're going to have to do much better than that. You have no power in this town, nor will you for all the years to come. All I see before me now is a pouting child." Gold scoffed, "I haven't had this much pleasure in months. Peter Pan suffering from a scorned romance – it is a rare sight indeed."

The _bang_ from Peter's fist against the glass countertop caused Adam to immediately set the two steaming cups down on marble-cut coasters. He approached closer to the doorway and was careful to remain unseen when he leaned against the wooden frame.

"You promised to help Emma find a way out of this. You swore you would help Elizabeth," Peter reminded him. There was a shakiness, _vulnerability_, in Peter's voice that concerned Adam. This sounded like nothing he had ever heard from someone who was normally so smug.

"And that is precisely what I'm doing." Adam could hear the smile in his father's voice. "I've done more for the girl in a week than you have done in the entirety of the past year. A bit selfish to take all of her newfound success away now, would you think?"

"Newfound success?" Peter sounded disgusted.

Adam leaned outwards slow, inch by inch, just so he could catch a glimpse of the exchange. Gold stood on the other side of the counter with his hands folded down across his waist. He saw the back of his father's combed hair: chestnut brown like his own though now bearing the signs of age with greying roots. Contrasting the smoothness of the pawn keeper's jacket, the hooded black sweatshirt clung to Peter's waist as he hunched over the counter top. His eyes appeared furious and frenzied. Tips of his golden hair glistened from the snowfall that had already begun to collect outside.

Gold calmly opened the account notebook in front of him. "Romance is a two way road. You can't hold onto a beloved if you fail to consider what it is that she needs." He picked up the fountain pen and continued to scribble in notes where he had left off on the store record. "It might come as a surprise to you that Elizabeth was once top of her class. She used to volunteer at the hospital on Sundays and had formerly been the president of the foreign language society at her school. Education and success were once top priorities, back before you came to turn her head. In the past year Miss Swan's academic proficiency and concern for others has declined at a rather alarming rate."

"I won't stand here to be lectured by a self-absorbed Dark One whose only credit to raising a half-decent son goes solely to his _wife_. You're not concerned with giving Elizabeth a decent future. All you have ever cared about is your self-indulgence, and I know better than anyone in this town the lengths you would go to see someone like me suffer. You will give me the vial."

"A curious tactic in trying to convince me to help you," Rumple remarked as he placed his folded palms calmly on the countertop. "Though as determined as you may be to helping your dear loved one, I will tell you now, _the cure won't come from me._" Adam could hear the impish twist in his father's voice as he spoke those last few words. "You took what you had for granted and now must pay the price for that mistake."

From where Adam stood, he could see the dual expression of fury and desperation plastered over Pan's face.

Still holding the two cups of steaming tea, Adam turned away. There was nothing more to hear besides the footsteps and slamming of the pawn shop entrance, though even that went barely recognized. He was flooded with an extreme guilt all of a sudden.

_His father had the cure all this time_.

Rumple's footsteps approached. Careful to make little to no sound, Adam backed up and wedged his body behind the clothes rack. He knelt down out of sight as his father walked through the back. Rumple gave the backroom a calm look over before he returned back out into the showroom.

Adam waited another minute before he took his opportunity to come out of hiding. He put down the two cups of tea and began nosing around through the cupboards and shelves. He peaked in the drawers that were unlocked and started to peak behind each photo frame hung on the walls. where his father kept his hidden stores of potions.

It was a while before he made it back upstairs to greet a patiently waiting Elizabeth. He could tell by her concerned look that he had been gone longer than he thought. "Hello again," he grinned nervously.

Elizabeth accepted her tea, though did not immediately drink. She set it down and frowned. "I have another question for you." She paused, "Do you think that other people prefer me this way?"

"You never really cared about how others thought of you before," he remarked.

"That was before. I'm talking about now. Are you happy with how I am now?" There was something so implicative with her final question that caused Adam's stomach to turn. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he now carried - the awareness of his father's involvement in this fiasco - that had him so disenchanted with the prospect of _finally_ having her attention. He frowned and nodded down at the cup. "Try some of the tea."

* * *

Peter had left Gold's store in a fury. He wanted to break things, hurt people, punish Gold. Snow glittered the pavement now. The lights from the stores still open in Storybrooke blurred under the cold moonlight. He counted his steps and breathed heavily. Clouds of steam puffed out through his lips. The gentle wind bit at his watering eyes.

He continued to move at a furious pace until he reached the skate park that had been built near Town Hall. He knew the boys were ahead. Tonight they were lounged together on the cement skate ramps, all hooded in dark shades of grey and black. Clouds of steam fogged out from their breaths – he counted seven heads.

When they recognized their leader approach them in silence, they also took the initiative to settle from their jokes. Felix stepped forward in greeting. "We think Elizabeth took to our games well tod-"

Peter's palm hit Felix's jaw too fast and without enough warning for Felix to dodge. He stumbled back until he fell down onto the pavement.

Peter did not advance his assault further - instead he watched as the boy scrambled back onto his feet. Felix's jaw had already begun to swell under the red gash where the metal in Peter's wristband caught his skin.

"You've been keeping secrets, and you know how I hate secrets." Peter said. "What did Rumpelstiltskin say to convince you to take Elizabeth into the vault? Did you honestly believe that Regina would hide my pixie dust there, of all places?"

Felix paused. With his right forearm still held over his face, his eyes could barely be seen beneath the greasy strands of hair. Peter took another step forward, this time clenching his fists. "Come now, we don't have all night, Felix."

"We weren't after the dust." Felix lowered his forearm to speak clearly. "Rumplestiltskin told me about the vial… the Vial of Youth." Slowly, Felix reached into his back pocket to reveal the blue-green glowing vial. "I was going to wait until all this was over to show you."

Peter stared at the Vial within the lost boy's grasp. He stepped forward and snatched the Vial by its string. All of the boys watched in silence, including Felix, as Peter examined the infamous magic concoction. "A Vial to ensure youth for all eternity, no matter the realm," Peter observed. He looked back up at Felix. "Was Elizabeth in favor of me having this?"

"No," Felix smirked. "She insisted that you didn't need it. Better yet, she said that you wouldn't want it."

Peter grinned. "She said that, really?" The boys around Peter took his cue to join in by chuckling. The tension felt by everyone in the group seemed to ease.

Encouraged, Felix nodded and continued. "I know how badly you want this, Pan. I tried telling the girl but she didn't understand. She can't understand - she'll never be one of us."

Peter tilted his head, still smiling. He laughed louder then. His eyes crinkled and his lips stretched ear to ear. Everyone joined in.

He then shuffled back to the side, wound back his arm, and smashed the Vial of Youth against the side wall of a cement ramp.

The laughter was choked out of the group. Felix clenched his jaw and watched as the glowing enchanted puddle dribbled down the white cement and absorbed into the snow.

Peter turned back to the group, resolved. "It is clear to me that our time away from Neverland has finally gotten to all of your heads, and you boys are overdue for a lesson. So listen to my words and take heed of them. After tonight, second chances are off the table." Peter announced. "My wants and desires are no concern to any of you, unless I make it so. Going against my orders and putting people of _value_ in certain danger is cause for a punishment which I don't think any of you would want to experience." Peter turned to Felix, "And for the sake of jogging your memories back to how Neverland worked, referring to the judgement of far worse and despicable enemies is treason." His voice hushed venomously, "And I'm sure you all remember to consequences of that."

The boys exchanged nervous glances when suddenly, car headlights shined over the skate park. A car screeched to a halt over the ice. The sounds of the passenger door opening and slamming shut could be heard even from where the Lost Boys were huddled.

Stepping out from the silhouette of the headlights, Adam ungracefully tread over the ice to approach the group and Peter. Adam shoved his gloved hands into the wool pockets of his parka.

"Peter," he called out. "Peter Pan, are you there?"

Most of the boys were already standing erect with arms crossed into their front pocket. They said nothing to Adam. Instinctively, Peter stepped back and leaned against the ramp. Adam was the last person alive who Peter wanted to see at the moment, and he knew his present anger wouldn't be conducive to a calm discussion.

Adam stammered. "Is she with you?"

Peter raised his brows. "What?"

"Elizabeth, did she come here? Have you seen her?"

"Of course I haven't seen her," he snapped. "I thought that was your new job."

"It's not- no, I can't find her." Adam frowned. "I gave her the serum the second I realized that my father had it. I slipped it in her tea. I promise you that I had no intention of keeping her memories from her. I would never do that."

Peter pushed himself up from the ramp. He stepped forward into the circle of boys. His eyes were alight with interest. "You gave her the serum, and then what?"

Adam paused. Guilt flooded his eyes. "I didn't really know what I was doing when I gave it to her. My father had a lot of the serum stored," he gestured the size of the flask with his hands, "and I just poured everything into the tea… and it was clearly too much."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"She just looked up at me, then just lost it. She freaked out and flipped the table. She started crying and screaming. I tried to stop her, but she just ran out."

"You let her run off, hysterical and alone, in the freezing cold?"

"I didn't mean to. I swear I tried to stop her. Her family, the police department, and some others are out looking for her now."

Peter turned away, back to his boys. Determination had taken over any lasting indication of the Boy King's former fury. "Retribution is coming early for you boys. Call the rest and search this town top to bottom. I want her found, tonight." He glared at the group for a moment, waited, then snapped his fingers abruptly. "Well, go on."

The boys took their cues and hustled off, leaving Adam and Peter standing alone in the hue of car lights and falling snow. "We've already checked the school and the cemetery," Adam said.

Peter started to walk away, into the shadows of the trees behind the park.

Adam frowned. "Where are you going?"

Peter did not turn back, though over the hum of the car and echo of police sirens in the neighborhood, Adam heard his words carry over in the night. "To the first place that she'd think to go."

* * *

Elizabeth sat on the bench that overlooked the harbor. She sat alone and still. Memories and epiphanies were spinning in her mind, leaving her incapacitated from thinking any rational thought. Every so often she shook her head, tilted it and bobbed her chin - a futile effort to fight off the slew of emotions that were overwhelming her. The recollections flooded in and filled her with the regret that she had abused each and every relationship she had in her life; Peter standing in the doorway of her hospital room; her father opening the white cardboard box containing steaming chunks of pineapple and ham; her mother gripping the cracked leather of the police cruiser steering wheel; Adam pulling out a seat for her in his bedroom. The rims of her eyes were wet and sore, though they were now the only part of her that was warm.

Sprinkles of ice whipped against her face. Her arms were wrapped tightly across her chest, though that did her little good to shield away the cold. Her finely thin knit sweater had soaked through, leaving her soaking wet from the mix of freezing sleet and shards of ice being carried in the wind. Her body shivered in violent tremors; she was physically alert to the danger she was putting herself in, however still unable to make a motion to move.

Her eyes were focused out, towards nothing but the black horizon. She paid no attention to the sounds of cars and voices behind her from Main street. She did not hear her phone as it incessantly beeped and buzzed against her thigh in the pocket of her trousers.

Suddenly, white lights flashed on her backside, casting the shadow of her and the bench ahead onto the frost-covered wooden boardwalk. A truck screeched and skidded to a halt on the frozen asphalt. A door slammed behind her. She didn't register the sound of her father's voice. She did not recognize the loudening sounds of boots trampling and cracking the surfaces of frozen puddles until her view of the horizon was blocked by the face of her father.

He knelt down and gathered her in his arms. She was met with a force of warmth from the center of his chest, though it did little good to resolve the fact that her body already in the process of shutting down. "Elizabeth," Killian spoke her name against the collar of her crewneck. He pulled back to look at her spacey expression. "Darling, look at me. Are you alright?"

At first, she still didn't register that he was actually there. She stared at him blankly. Her mind couldn't settle. Killian watched his daughter struggle to recognize him.

Her eyes squinted, forcing another stream of tears to trickle down over her frost-nipped cheeks. Her lip trembled against the touch of his thumb grazing under her swollen eyelids.

"Lizzie," she sobbed. "Lizzie, not Elizabeth. Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie."

"What?" Killian frowned, horrified.

"I do like Hawaiian pizza," she said. "And I hate pink. I _fucking hate pink_!" Killian pulled her back in, this time wrapping the unzipped ends of his jacket around her to better encompass her with his body heat. Elizabeth sobbed into the crook of his sweating neck. She could no longer feel the bite from the wind or the whips of the frost that he now blocked.

"I'm so sorry," she cried. "I didn't mean it, any of it."

"Sweetheart, I know. We all know." Killian gripped her tighter. "There's no need for an apology." His head dropped down to notice her bloodied feet. Her shoes were nowhere in sight. "Your feet, Elizabeth. Where are your shoes?"

She shook her head.

"We need to get back to the truck where it's warm."

"No!" She screeched. Her hand had a tight grasp on the front of of his shirt to keep him close. "Please don't make me go back. I can't."

"It's below freezing. I have to get you out of this storm."

"I can't." Her voice cracked silent, unable to continue a coherent argument. Her eyes widened at her father. Her head spun faster and began to pound. Elizabeth brought both of her hands up on either side of her temples. Her eyes squeezed shut when she fell forward against her father's shoulder, yelping. "It hurts. I can't see everything straight. It really hurts."

Killian leaned down and scooped her up off of the bench. Her body crumpled in agony, shivering and throbbing, as her head continued to fire her nerves.

"You are going to the car." Killian held out his hand, offering for her to shake it. "I promise on my honor, I will not drive you home until I have your permission. Allow me first to bring you to some heat."

Lizzie gripped his shirt and hid her face down against his shoulder where the wind couldn't bite. Before she knew it, she was inside her grandfather's pickup truck. Killian peeled off her soaked-through sweater and wrapped her in a dry, crocheted blanket that he found on the backseat. Her wet cheeks began to sting from the heat that was blasting in her face.

Killian got into the driver's side and reached into his pocket for his phone, which conveniently enough was already buzzing. "Swan," he sighed. "She's safe. I've got her."

Elizabeth pulled her knees up and tucked her face down into her legs. Her head throbbed. Her feet burned. Her fingers were numb. Her sight blurred.

Though then, just as she glanced up out of the passenger-side window, she saw someone. It was a boy - tall, lean, and familiar. Doused in the shadows cast by the harbor buildings a short distance away from the street, the boy with golden hair turned his back to the car and walked into the dark alley between the buildings.

She pressed her hand to the frosted window with the hopes that he would turn back.

"Elizabeth," Killian frowned.

She looked ahead at the meandering trickles of water melted from the newly fallen frost on the windshield. Calm and collected, she was finally able to better gather her thoughts through the pounding headache. "Everyone must hate me after all that I've said."

"No one hates you. If there's one thing this town knows better than anywhere else, it's how to deal with a curse."

She smirked. "Dad, I was pretty terrible."

Killian paused, thought a moment, and then finally chuckled. "Only a bit."

Finally, it seemed as if the tension broke between them and they smiled. For Elizabeth, it was more a smile of regret. "All those things I said at the hospital, and to Henry," she said. Her amusement waned. "And to you and Mom."

"I assure you love, it was for the most part more entertaining than offensive. What is important now is that you're safe and it's over with." He nodded down to her legs wrapped under blanket. "Speaking of which, can I have a better look at those feet?"

She pulled her legs up to squeeze her bare toes. She wiggled them out from under the blanket to display them to her father, who was no stranger to frostbite and temperature-induced injury from his time on the seas. "They're cold, but okay. They're not falling off."

"Mainly I was worried about discoloration," he admitted. "They appear to be alright. If the shade of your skin was anything but red, our first stop wouldn't be home, but the medical center."

Elizabeth nodded haphazardly. Though her feet did hurt some, it was her head which still caused her the most distress. Her temples pounded, close to at pace with the thrum of the old truck engine. She closed her eyes and lowered her head down into her lap. "It's my head still."

She felt her father lay a gentle hand over left side where it hurt worst. "Please allow me to bring you home. Your mother can help with this sort of thing, I'm sure."

She lifted her head up to look at her father, unsure, before giving him a weak nod.

* * *

She could not distinguish at what moment she fell asleep, only that it must have happened soon after Killian began driving. She dreamed of the passing white car lights as they moved by; the hum of the heater as it blasted against her face and tickled her bare calves; the low murmuring of male voices from the truck radio that featured an AM late night talkshow. All she knew for sure was that from that point of sleep, she was warm.

She realized upon waking up in her own bed just how warm it was with two bodies beneath the massive comforter. Emma was curled up beside her, still wearing the clothes she had been wearing earlier that night save the leather. A heating pack, now unplugged from the wall, had cooled lukewarm over the both of them. Lizzie could only assume that it was meant for her. The snow outside her bedroom window fell like flakes of thick wool illuminated orange by the streetlights.

Emma stirred. Before the Savior could manage to get out of bed, she noticed her daughter already awake and somewhat alert.

"Lizzie," Emma smiled. She pulled her daughter in gently, offering once again that warmth that was unlike anything a blanket or heater could offer. Lizzie contently welcomed Emma's embrace. "You okay?"

Lizzie leaned her face into the smell of her mom's lavender shampoo. She figured at least from that angle, Emma couldn't see her already watering eyes. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."

"Hey, no." Emma pulled back. "You can't take the blame for actions you made while under a curse. All that matters now is that you're safe."

"Adam," Elizabeth said. "He gave me the cure."

Emma nodded. "It turns out Gold had it all along. It only took Adam a few days to figure that out. He was here earlier, you know." She smiled, "He wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I don't remember a lot. My head still hurts." Her palm covered her left temple, which seemed to be throbbing hard enough to be seen at the skin.

"We've been able to piece together a lot of what happened, and most of it goes way beyond you."

"What do you mean?"

Emma paused, seemingly uncertain of how to continue. "Do you remember the story of Cruella de Ville and Henry?"

"She tried to use him as leverage. You killed her."

"Yeah," Emma frowned. "Well that was an example of how sometimes bad people try to exploit their enemies' weakness by taking out their aggression on others. Cruella knew how much Henry meant to me, so she thought that she could use him as a way to force my hand."

Confused, Elizabeth leaned up off of her pillows to sit up straight. "What does this have to do with me?"

"I guess you could say that something similar happened this week." Emma hesitated, before speaking delicately, "Gold. He tried to use you and your curse as a way to hurt someone else."

"Peter."

"Yeah." Emma watched her daughter avert her eyes down to her sheets as her neck flushed. "As bad as it all sounds, really my biggest issue with this was your part. Nobody forced you to break into that fault in the first place - _Regina_'s vault. Really Lizzie, what the hell were you thinking?"

She averted her eyes down to her sheets. "You know the story you just mentioned about Henry? Well actually, all of them - all of the stories you ever told about the early years?" She paused. "For all of them, he was physically there. Henry saw everything. He experienced everything; Neverland, Camelot, the Underworld, New York. I haven't done any of that. I haven't been a part of anything. Between you and Dad, all I've been given are stories."

"We're just trying to protect you. Henry didn't have that luxury in the first few years."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between protecting someone and smothering them. The night in the vault with Felix may have been a setup, but really, it was the first time anyone had asked me to be a part of something." She balled the sheets up in her hands, frustrated. "Do you want to hear the real irony of Peter? He's gotten to be even worse, worse even than you or Dad." She smiled bitterly. "You guys really do worry for nothing. He doesn't like it when I try to be reckless. He cares too much."

The doorbell chimed downstairs before Emma had a chance to answer.

"Wait up here, okay?"

For once, Elizabeth did not argue. She watched as Emma darted out of bed to hurry out of the room.

* * *

Peter shuffled his balance from heel to heel. He stood awkwardly at the doorway. He couldn't take his eyes off of the lone white light doorbell he had just pressed. Abruptly, he jammed his hands back into his pockets. Already he was feeling the discomfort of the situation. _There's still time to walk away_, the thought continued to sound more tempting. Peter swallowed the idea back, knowing full well that this was an inevitability that had to be confronted sooner rather than later.

The yellow light and warmth engulfed him as the door opened. Peter gritted his teeth at the sight of the Savior, who did not appear the slightest bit amused to find him standing on her doorstep either. "I didn't think you knew how to use a front door."

"Is she awake?"

She crossed her arms "Are you sure that's really your concern right now?"

"Is she, or is she not?"

"Why don't you give it a night?"

"Emma," Killian called out from halfway down the stairs. "It's alright, love. I called him." There was something so exhaustive about his demeanor when he admitted what neither would think would come out of his mouth. Emma shot him a look, though she knew it would do no good when he made it to the foot of the stairs. "It's high time the two of us talked."

Emma raised a brow. "Are you sure?"

Killian shrugged. "No, not really."

Peter took the opportunity to step through the doorway. He eyed the Savior and Captain unsteadily, still considering his third option of skipping this business and sneaking in later, through Elizabeth's window as he had done many times before.

Emma gave Killian one final look before she took her leave back up the stairs.

The two men waited until Elizabeth's bedroom door closed before they looked up to acknowledge the other.

"As much as this pains me to say, I'm in your debt for tonight. For finding her, and for calling me" Killian said. Still uncomfortable, Peter could barely bring himself to look the pirate in the eye before glaring off elsewhere. "If you hadn't of found her when you did, she could have sustained far worse injuries from the cold."

Peter smirked bitterly. "Why start with the civilities now, Killian? We both know this night changes nothing."

Killian took a moment to think his words carefully. He breathed heavily, swallowed, and then nodded up at the staircase. "She's my daughter, Pan"

Inwardly, Peter scrutinized him. There was once a time when he ruled him. In Neverland, there were no agreements. There were no conversations. There were no good deeds repaid with kind words. All there ever used to be were Peter's dictated words and Captain Hook's reluctant obedience. "Why did you call me here, other than tell me what would have been much easier to stomach over a telephone?"

"Nothing will change after tonight." Killian said decisively. "You're right about that. No matter what Elizabeth thinks she knows about you or how you've changed, it will never be possible."

"It's wonderful to see how well you take your daughter's happiness into consideration."

"You don't honestly believe I can just wave all the miscreant deeds you've done in the past; all of my men you murdered; all the lost boys you stole from their homes. Elizabeth may not be able to see you for all that you truly are, but never fear I do, and I can't allow it."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Surely after all the years we spent together in Neverland, you understand me well enough to be too surprised. At the very most…" He paused and flexed his jaw, already regretting his words. There was a reason why Peter was called here tonight as much as it now pained Killian to suppress his pride and admit. "For your actions tonight, I will allow you five minutes to speak with her. Only tonight."

Peter chuckled, though his expression showed just enough animosity to let the venom seep through his voice. "How generous of you. I'll try not to think anything of it."

Rather than take the bait to dispute Killian further, Peter took his opportunity to break his rigid posture, step back, and move towards the stairwell.

Before the lost boy could make it halfway up the stairs, Emma approached from the top and raised her palm. "Hold it," she said with a soft bite. "Arm length distance. That's it, Pan. If you so much as lay a finger on her…"

"You'll break down the door?" Peter mocked, clearly losing his last bits of patience. "You honestly think I'd harm her?"

"Don't twist my words. You know what I meant."

"Would you like to tie my hands, then?" Still teasing, he held out his palms pressed together.

Emma sighed and looked back down at the foot of the stairs where Killian stood, eyes fixed on the heels of the lost boy.

Peter tilted his head at her. "The Captain said I could have five minutes."

Emma smiled. "I guess that leaves you now with four and a half." Despite the harshness she spouted, Emma finally stepped aside to allow him by. Peter eyed the Savior as he made his way past into the dark hallway. It occurred to him then that he had never actually entered Elizabeth's room through the door ever, until then. He paused with his hand extended over the doorknob when he heard the faint sounds of scuffling and hurried footsteps from the other side of the door.

Peter opened the door to find Elizabeth just then scrambling back into her bed. He smirked at the disheveled sight of her as he calmly entered and closed the door behind him.

Hair a mess, breath not quite fully caught, and expression astonished, already it was clear that this was truly Lizzie. Ignoring the urge to pace across the room, Peter moved with every bit of grace as he walked over the rug. Elizabeth sat up, expectant, when he approached.

"I almost kissed him," she admitted. "Before Adam gave me the cure, I remember being that close."

Peter sat down on the side of the bed, careful not to let the mattress give off so much as a squeak to alert the parents standing outside the bedroom door. "You might has well have given everything else that I saw from you this week." His look fell solemn. "It took everything in me not to hurt him, you know."

"I'm surprised you didn't."

"It wouldn't have been you kissing him. Not really. It wouldn't have been the real you." He smirked, proud of how exclusive the feel of her lips were. Just as he began to lean in, he paused and pulled back with a look of disgust. "You still smell horrible - just like one of those old crippled ladies who waste their Sunday afternoons on the park benches."

Elizabeth beamed. It was a gleeful crinkle-eyed white-teethed sort of smile that gave great relief to Peter. He had not realized how badly he had missed it. "I'm well aware. I'm giving all the clothes back tomorrow. If not to Mary Margaret, then to Goodwill."

"There is always the option of burning them. You know how the boys love a good bonfire."

"Peter," she giggled. She glanced down at his wrist and noticed the swelling and discoloration. She reached out to take his hand in hers, though at that he recoiled back. Rather than allowing her to touch him, Peter held it out at a distance for her to observe. She frowned. "This wasn't for Felix, was it?"

"No," he answered. "His punishment will far worse. That much I can assure you."

She dropped her shoulders. "He didn't force me down there, you know."

"Yes, I know. You were in search of _an adventure_," he mocked. Upon her look of confusion, Peter nodded towards the far bedroom window on the other side of the room where it was cracked just slightly open.

Lizzie huffed. "You know some consider it to be very rude to eavesdrop."

"You're one to talk." The two exchanged grins just when her phone vibrated on her nightstand. Peter was quick to grab it so Lizzie could remain in her comfortable position under the sheets. He peered at the glowing screen. "A text message from your father."

She took it from him and grimaced. "He says time's almost up." She turned and set the phone down on her pillow. "Am I going to see you again tonight?"

"You wouldn't wake up even if I did return," he chuckled. "It's probably best if I don't disturb you from your sleep tonight. Besides, I have other matters to attend to."

She sat up. "Other matters?"

"You don't honestly believe that I'd let Rumplestiltskin get away with this, do you?"

"Hey," she frowned and reached out for his arm. "My Mom can handle him. You don't have to stir the fires any more than they already are."

"What, and just forgive him for hurting you? For putting you in harm's way just to further his own agenda against me?"

"He has magic here. You don't."

"Didn't," he smirked. Peter reached into his back pocket to reveal a brown leather string. Tied to the end was Peter's vial of pixie dust. The dust glittered from the lamp light and reflected white circles of light over the walls. Elizabeth breathed deeply. "You found it?"

"Felix told me that you thought I went to the Mayor's basement to search for it on the night of your accident. It was part of the lie of course but I was intrigued by the possibility. Earlier today when I left school early, I learned that Regina had gone to the cemetery and was busy creating tougher security measures for the vault. I took it upon myself to have a quick look. It was just to humor my curiosity. As it turns out, Felix was right."

"Peter." Lizzie frowned. "I know you're angry. I realize that what Rumplestiltskin did was wrong, but this doesn't warrant you starting a war with him."

"I didn't start anything. He did. He needs to that you're off-limits, and he needs to learn the consequences should he ever try to harm you again. Any unfinished business he has with me will never concern you."

"People could get hurt," she stated. "I've heard about what happens when there's a showdown in the streets of Storybrooke. Buildings are destroyed. Glass shatters. Cars catch fire. People suffer from the crossfire."

He smiled. "I think you'll find that my sort of magic is a bit more civilized than that."

"Is that supposed to comfort me? No matter what it looks like, magic used for violence is never good. I know how you get when you're angry." She grasped his bruised hand. This time, Peter did not pull away. "What would this have looked like if you had magic instead of a fist? A punched locker to a burning school? Would you have hurt Henry?"

He flinched back to keep her from making contact with his swollen knuckle. "I will never let anything like this happen to you again. So long as I am here, _no one _will ever take advantage of you again."

"Hey, come here." Lizzie smiled weakly. She reached up and grasped his collar to lead him down. "I don't need you or anyone else protecting me. You need to let me make decisions on my own. You need to trust that I can handle myself, even if it means I trap myself in a vault, break my nose, and forget my better judgement. I can't hope to grow if I can't make any mistakes in my life." She paused. "Promise me, Peter. Give me some space to run a little."

He watched her with eyes filled with conflict. "I don't make promises that I don't intend on keeping." Before Lizzie could refute, he pressed one finger to her lip. "But I can give you some adventure. We can make our own stories. With my magic, I can show you anything - and _everything_. I can take you out of Storybrooke. We can go anywhere you like: any land, any realm."

"I'd like that." She smiled. "Have me back by dinner, and I'm yours."

Peter obliged her tugging grip to lower onto his knees. "I promised your mother that I wouldn't lay a finger on you tonight. You know very well that I always keep my word." She looked slightly aghast as she considered for the briefest of moments that her parents actually held some sort of authoritative rule over him. That idea left her head very quickly, as he took no time to lean in further over the bed, grinning. The soft watt light from her lamp accentuated Peter's boyish features as he moved in. "Lucky for me," his voice grew tender, "I don't have to use my hands for everything."

Lizzie closed her eyes, anticipating the feel of his cool lips to press against her own. They met for just a moment. She only had enough time for her fingers to reach the wet tips of his hair; for the bridge of her nose to brush against his; for her to feel the soft, gentle move of his mouth. Just a second passed before Killian stormed into the room. Peter used his newfound Neverland magic to vanish into the air. Feeling somewhat dazed and disappointed, Lizzie sat back up in bed to gaze at the sorry sight of her father, whose eyes were scouring the room in search of the lost boy.

"He left." Elizabeth bit her lip to hide her giddiness. Seeing the obvious concern written over her father's face, Lizzie turned off her phone and set it on her nightstand. "Thank you, Dad."

Killian swallowed. "It has to end, Elizabeth. Your mother and I can't allow it. He's far too dangerous." He talked as he walked over to the open window. He leaned his weight with his one hand over the pane to close it. Elizabeth watched him adjust the curtains over the frost-covered windows before he turned to make his way to her bedside. She offered him a smile as he gently rested a palm along the side of her head which had earlier been the worst source of her pain. "I love you. No matter how much you protest against my intervening in your affairs, I will always do what is necessary to protect you from the evils your mother and I once had to face. You have to have faith in our judgment, darling. That's all."

She nodded. "That's all."

_All for tonight_.


End file.
